Feel

Many, and more than many, too many times I've wished I could stop feeling. But today, many months later, I find myself incredibly grateful for all the pain as well as all the joy. Because what would life be without the ability to feel? Like that of a bird flying free, or perhaps that of a lion crossing the plains...but how sad it is to be able to fly and not be able to stop and admire the beauty of the world, don't you think?

Life is that—but it's also about learning to admire pain, to realize that everything is fleeting: the lion, the bird, and ourselves. Reaching this conclusion has allowed me to grow as a person in ways I never had before. Understanding pain as something inherent to life helps us manage it better and, at the same time, extract from it a lesson that is truly invaluable.

Feeling hurts—sometimes too much—but being able to feel reminds us that we are alive. Personally, I find it impossible to ignore how lucky I’ve been to exist, biologically and molecularly speaking, in this brief moment in time that is my life, within the millions and millions of years of the universe. Learning to appreciate this has become essential to me, just as a few months ago, avoiding my emotions at all costs seemed essential too—yet it led nowhere. You can avoid many things, but pain, as I’ve said, is embedded in our lives as the conscious beings we are.

To feel is, above all, a way of being present. Human consciousness, unlike simple perception, allows us to pause, to observe ourselves, and to recognize what is happening inside us. It’s not just about seeing or hearing—it’s about interpreting, about assigning meaning. Thanks to this capacity, human beings don’t merely live through events—we experience them deeply, with a level of intensity that can be overwhelming. Consciousness grants us access to our own thoughts, emotions, and contradictions, and in that lies both our strength and our fragility.

But this consciousness can also be a double-edged sword. It makes us vulnerable to what we feel, even when we don’t want to feel it. Sometimes emotional pain or sadness doesn’t come from the event itself, but from the way we understand it and internalize it. Yet it’s that same consciousness that allows us to grow, to learn from our mistakes, and to find meaning amidst chaos. It’s a constant mirror that forces us to face ourselves—and while that can be uncomfortable, it’s also deeply transformative.

I remember a time in my life when pain made me wish I could feel nothing at all. It was as if every emotion was too intense, as if sensitivity was a weight I couldn’t bear. But with time, I understood that even suffering had something to teach me. Without needing to recount every detail, I can say that it was precisely in that darkness where I truly began to know myself. I came to realize that the point is not to avoid pain, but to listen to it and learn what it’s trying to tell us.

Sometimes pain is a dull thud that hits you in the chest in the most brutal way possible. Sometimes it simply hides in the most innocent smile or the most sincere words. Sometimes it can ruin a day, a week, months. But in my opinion, much more beautiful things emerge from destruction. From exploring, from making mistakes not once but many times.

Feeling—with all its chaos—is what shapes us. Without emotions, there are no meaningful memories; without consciousness, there is no true learning. Pain, though unwanted, reveals our cracks—but also our hidden reserves of strength. Joy, though fleeting, teaches us that life can shine even in its briefest moments. Sadness connects us to our depth, and love, to what is eternal within us. Feeling is not a weakness—it is proof of existence. Rejecting emotions is like rejecting the ocean out of fear of drowning: it keeps us from discovering that we can also float, move forward, swim toward other shores. That’s why, even if it hurts, overwhelms, or exposes us, feeling is essential. Because only those who allow themselves to feel can also heal, rebuild, and above all, truly live.