Feels, what exactly are feels? One could argue that they are neural chemical releases, and yet why is it that they are often associated with coming from ones heart? Another question would be, why is it that apathetic individuals are often referred to as cold-hearted; when in fact, the brain is where this feeling, of lack of feeling comes from?
For the longest time, I had been lost to the concept of feeling. I did not understand other people, nor did I really care about them or how they felt, I was an apathetic person. Whether or not that was a result of a frontal lobe hemorrhaging I had sustained as a boy, or whether it was a result of some genetic predisposition I'll never know.
The fact of the matter is, somewhere along the line I HAD developed the ability to FEEL.
When I was but a young boy, I was normal back then, playing on the school playground amongst the jungle gym. I had just seen some other kid hang upside down using only his legs, and I thought I'd try it. And so after scaling the 6 foot monster, I had quickly realized that this was a mistake. However, my fellow schoolmates, had other ideas. "Don't worry we'll make sure you don't fall" said little Jacob Cunningham, as he and his cohorts circled around me. Without even thinking, I wrapped my legs around the bars and proceeded to lower myself lower. Soon after, I noticed that my group was slipping at my ankles, and so I desperately cried out for help. While I was struggling to regain my stability, little Jacob Cunningham had grabbed my legs in an attempt to keep me from falling, or so I had thought. "Time to crack that egg head of yours" said Jacob before letting go of my ankles. Unable to hold on, I soon found myself tumbling down below the jungle gym until after what seemed like a lifetime, my head had contacted the hot concrete surface.
I do not remember much after that, but sometime later I had awoken with a bandage on my head, and my mother was there sitting next to me. "I thought I'd lost you" she said with tears rolling from her eyes, as she hastily reached over to embrace me. Unsure of exactly what was happening, I just layed there.
Skip ahead a few years, and it's a long summer's day, one of those days where the view of the cul-de-sac is distorted by the gases of the dried oil on the pavement. The neighborhood kids are outside playing baseball when, suddenly a rogue ball had somehow found its way into my bed room. Looking through the broken glass, I see a few boys outside and decide I should return their ball to them. After making my way downstairs and to the front door, I open it to find what seems like a whole baseball team. "Hey, uh is this your ball?" I ask the group. One of them snickers and then says "Who else's would it be?". "I-uh, I don't know". "Well hey, uh here you go". I say nervously before quickly retreating back into the house. And it was there, among my Legos and SNES where I would remain for many years after that.
I suppose that is really the first time when I had shown antisocial characteristics. Anti social in the sense that, I had preferred the company of my toys to the company of others.