The Big Bad Wolf

"She wants everyone to think she doesn't have a heart."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, you try to convince people that you don't have ordinary emotions."

"I do what?"

...

"Being pissed off won't do you any good."

"I know."

...

"Why do you feel frustrated? There's no reason to."

"I'm sorry."

...

I didn't believe it when my friends told me that I seem to shove people into believing that I don't have normal emotions, that I turn away and sneer when I hear people discussing upsetting situations or romance. Sure, I'm Mademoiselle Logique, but I don't disdain emotions.

Except that then I began to notice things. Like the way my parents question and dismiss any negative emotions as useless and impractical. Like the way I feel a need to apologize when I seem anything but happy. Like the way I used to write about how things felt without trying to divine the reason for it or dismissing it, but now I write exclusively to divine the reasons for what I feel and then dismiss it.

Like the way I flash to feeling uncomfortable and irritated with myself whenever I catch myself feeling an emotion, even happiness, without a 'reason.'

Somewhere along the way (about three years ago, if Kitty is to be believed), something vital and alive about me died. Or, at least, began to strangle and choke beneath the fingers of my intellect.

I can feel it struggling and my grip tightening even now.

Perhaps then, there is still hope that I can recover. I am both terrified and titillated at the prospect of feeling passion again. (Even as a part of me rolls its eyes with muttered phrases containing "melodrama" and "naivete.")

Looking back, this struggle, between rational and romantic, has been the story of the last three years of my life. (Clicks and snaps echo in my brain-chamber as I finally back up enough to see part of the machine.) This is why I've yet to really apply any of the relationship skills I've so carefully studied. This is why people don't feel comfortable approaching me. This is why I no longer have the patience to listen to other people's problems and why they no longer seek me out for advice. This is why I tend to view literature in terms of the rational vs. the irrational.

So what do I do about it? How do I stop leashing my emotions? I don't want to be a cold, unapproachable person. I want to find something pure and passionate. No, I don't want to be a slave to my emotions. But I do want to be able to accept them, rational or no.

The contradiction amuses me. I wear everything I feel on my body, put it on display, and yet I so carefully control everything I feel.

It is time, as ever, to make some changes.