Emotionless

We were just talking when you blurted out a few words to describe me. I forgot the rest, but one word stayed — emotionless.
It carved itself into my psyche, echoed for days, maybe weeks.

Emotionless — I wonder if that’s what they call it when someone becomes fluent in their own feelings.
When the inner world grows so vivid that it no longer needs company.
When you can spot projection, rejection, and performance in others like shadows moving across glass — and simply choose not to dance along. When emotions settle inside and do not wriggle around your spine like snakes.

They use it like an accusation. As if emotionlessness means emptiness or indifference.
But I think it’s the opposite. When emotions are deep, they descend. They sink into the sea of your own consciousness and go on long voyages. They resurface only when they’ve gathered meaning — when they come back with pearls. They take time. They are not like waves that strike the rocks momentarily and leave. They stay still and turbulent like a sea.

So yes, hand me your grief, your betrayal, your resentment.
I’ve learned their language early. I’ve studied their weight, their temperature. I can hold them without breaking.
Maybe that’s what they see — the absence of reaction. The quiet. The still water that no longer ripples at every stone thrown its way. I can take it and let it pass through my hands like sand and not get dirty in the process.

So, call it emotionless if you must.
But know that what you mistake for emptiness
is really the calm of someone who has already survived many storms

.