I have always loved with wild abandon. Whether person or
passion, the truth is that I have a tendency to dive right in and give
everything I’ve got. I can already hear the people, the men especially,
shouting warnings to their kin. “Oh, look! Here comes the Crazy Woman! Better
run away or she’ll fall in love with you!” Sometimes I wonder if my propensity
for deep love, and the fact that people know it, is what drives them away in
fear. This used to bother me, before I was comfortable by myself.
Unfortunately, society is not made to accommodate wild
lovers like me. They encourage us to tame that animal instinct, to place a
heavy yoke around Heart’s neck and put it in a cage, to let Logic reign
supreme. We are taught to fear our feelings instead of to sit with them and
befriend them. That to be open about feelings is an act of bravery, or even
foolishness. “Feelings are the enemy! Let’s build more walls to keep them out!
Fuck feelings!” All Emotionally Open People, here’s the memo. Comply or run the
risk of complete and public humiliation. Cordially yours, Messrs. Logical, Rational,
Pragmatic, Practical Thinkers.
I’m cupping my hands over my ears, I don’t like this memo. So
here’s what I’m gonna do: I’m just going to go up and kiss Logical, Rational, Pragmatic
and Practical on the mouth, see how they like it. See if they ever even saw it
coming. I assure you, they didn’t.
Today's headline reads: WILD WOMAN SWOOPS IN, THINKERS HAVE LOST THEIR MINDS!
Currently: Logical is pacing back and forth, creating grooves in the carpet where he steps, replaying the scenario again and again. Rational is freaking out because his favourite sack of marbles appear to have been misplaced (I pocketed them while I was squeezing his buttocks and biting his lower lip). Pragmatic is picking the skin off his fingers, it’s a nervous tic he’s carried since he was six. Practical has taken to Facebook, stalking photos and posts for clues.
Today's headline reads: WILD WOMAN SWOOPS IN, THINKERS HAVE LOST THEIR MINDS!
Currently: Logical is pacing back and forth, creating grooves in the carpet where he steps, replaying the scenario again and again. Rational is freaking out because his favourite sack of marbles appear to have been misplaced (I pocketed them while I was squeezing his buttocks and biting his lower lip). Pragmatic is picking the skin off his fingers, it’s a nervous tic he’s carried since he was six. Practical has taken to Facebook, stalking photos and posts for clues.
At the end of the day, I’m still alone, but a little bit
more pleased with myself than I should be.
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