The Unbearable Heaviness of Angst

4 Dec
(WARNING: Contains whininess, angst and teenage hormones.)

I don’t think I will ever be able to follow my heart. Whenever it says something, my brain jumps to analyze it. If there is no logical, morally sound and understandable justification, its voice is silenced. And that is how I spend my time: living through a vociferous battle my brain constantly wages against my heart and trying to pretend that I could someday cast off logic to embrace sentimentality.

…And that is my status on the Chinese version of Facebook. You know, they say that whenever you post something, there is always an intended recipient. I want the person to see it, but I don’t. See? This is the kind of situation I’m always in: a part of me says go for it and see what happens, but my brain goes oh fuck no are you crazy can’t you see where this is leading? It’s so easy to tell another person what the ‘right’ thing to do is when you’re giving advice, but everything changes when it’s yourself that gets stuck in the shithole.

Some people wonder what the ‘right’ thing to do is (of course, ‘right’ may vary depending on…on everything). I don’t really need to. I know what I ought to do in order to fend off possible future awkwardnesses or undesirable situations, to give certain impressions and to hide other feelings. I know what my head wants because it’s given so many people advice and it would be stupid not to heed advice that you’ve given to others for countless times. But it’s hard to carry it out, it is. Logic and sense wars against any possible inner romantic I have in myself. It shouts to me what I know already but don’t want to acknowledge.

People tell me that I’m too logical when it comes to matters of the heart. (Or is it even to do with the heart? I don’t even want to say that it’s ‘love’ or anything like that, because we’re still young and god knows we have no idea what love is). I have known people who would do anything to be with a person, people who have done seemingly stupid senseless and downright embarrassing things in the name of love. My pride and the list of consequences running through my head prevent me from doing anything rash–but they also block me from another set of possible results.

Maybe some part of me knows that in an alternate universe where I could ignore the scornful voice in my head and where I need not think about consequences, I would too do crazy things.

But that is an alternate universe and not the one I am currently living in, and so I will continue to be that girl who lives underneath a semi-shell of assholery and manliness, and who pretends that shit is cool when it isn’t because she’s too scared to say how she feels before she knows how she feels yet herself.

Ahaha, look at that word salad. But you get the gist. Now let me sit back and pretend that the universe is just playing this huge prank on me, and laugh with the skill of a thousand actors and actresses.

…I feel silly.

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