That's So Emo
Yesterday I felt really upset.
I felt like the red insides of a watermelon, cut up, spit out. It must be akin to the feeling a piñata must have before it surrenders. It's all broken ribbons and caved paper on the inside, but the outside is proud and bright, strong and sturdy. Until it breaks and all the sweet things inside are lost.
Sometimes I worry that I'm losing my sweet things. You know, those things about you that you treasure even if other people don't notice them.
I think of it as my lefthanded-ness. Of course in real life I'm as right handed as 90% of the population, but as far as how I behave emotionally and how I think about things, I feel I am in a 10% margin. This small space is packed tight with felons, lovers, geniuses, and cage fighters. Aggressive thinkers. Passionate feelers. People of ill repute.
Sometimes I think that I'm mostly made up of water. Well I am, but go with me. I feel like sometimes I'm really still, I don't move or make a sound. I don't even cast a shadow. Other times I feel like I am a torrent, a whirlpool, a tempest. I can't be stopped.
I can't even stop myself.
Have you ever tried to stop the rain from falling? Have you ever tried to cram fog into a zip lock bag? Do you know how hard it is to scrape all the snow off a mountain because someone might not want to see it?
Sometimes I want to feel how I feel because it's so easy for me to shut myself down. I do it all the time.
I make myself unfeel. I make myself forget. I decide in advance how I will react to something and even if my decision is inappropriate, I follow through.
But sometimes I don't want to unfeel. I want to hurt. I want to give my full attention to things that matter in me. Sometimes you have to talk about something so that you can understand what you're trying to say.
When I was a kid adults told me, you can't feel this way or you can't feel that way when I was crying. I reduced the way I felt until I could feel very little. But just the same, it was a sort of violation.
Why can't I have my feelings? My education and my feelings are all I have. These earrings, this 'fro, this skin can be stolen, burnt off, damaged, but what I know and how I think will always remain.
Maybe I should be a lawyer. A liar. And make lots of money for being as passionate or unfeeling as I want to be. Then I could argue with people who want to argue. Who don't mind sparing, love words, and are not strangers to controversy.
I need to go back into Old School Joslyn-mode. I need to just focus on my schoolwork and leave other things that I can't manage to be managed by He Who Can.
In the meantime I'll sit in my room and listen to Count Basie. He always knows what to say.
I felt like the red insides of a watermelon, cut up, spit out. It must be akin to the feeling a piñata must have before it surrenders. It's all broken ribbons and caved paper on the inside, but the outside is proud and bright, strong and sturdy. Until it breaks and all the sweet things inside are lost.
Sometimes I worry that I'm losing my sweet things. You know, those things about you that you treasure even if other people don't notice them.
I think of it as my lefthanded-ness. Of course in real life I'm as right handed as 90% of the population, but as far as how I behave emotionally and how I think about things, I feel I am in a 10% margin. This small space is packed tight with felons, lovers, geniuses, and cage fighters. Aggressive thinkers. Passionate feelers. People of ill repute.
Sometimes I think that I'm mostly made up of water. Well I am, but go with me. I feel like sometimes I'm really still, I don't move or make a sound. I don't even cast a shadow. Other times I feel like I am a torrent, a whirlpool, a tempest. I can't be stopped.
I can't even stop myself.
Have you ever tried to stop the rain from falling? Have you ever tried to cram fog into a zip lock bag? Do you know how hard it is to scrape all the snow off a mountain because someone might not want to see it?
Sometimes I want to feel how I feel because it's so easy for me to shut myself down. I do it all the time.
I make myself unfeel. I make myself forget. I decide in advance how I will react to something and even if my decision is inappropriate, I follow through.
But sometimes I don't want to unfeel. I want to hurt. I want to give my full attention to things that matter in me. Sometimes you have to talk about something so that you can understand what you're trying to say.
When I was a kid adults told me, you can't feel this way or you can't feel that way when I was crying. I reduced the way I felt until I could feel very little. But just the same, it was a sort of violation.
Why can't I have my feelings? My education and my feelings are all I have. These earrings, this 'fro, this skin can be stolen, burnt off, damaged, but what I know and how I think will always remain.
Maybe I should be a lawyer. A liar. And make lots of money for being as passionate or unfeeling as I want to be. Then I could argue with people who want to argue. Who don't mind sparing, love words, and are not strangers to controversy.
I need to go back into Old School Joslyn-mode. I need to just focus on my schoolwork and leave other things that I can't manage to be managed by He Who Can.
In the meantime I'll sit in my room and listen to Count Basie. He always knows what to say.