Still Undefeated

ra⋅tion⋅ale
-noun

1. the fundamental reason or reasons serving to account for something.
2. a statement of reasons.
3. a reasoned exposition of principles.

Synonyms:

1. logic, basis, grounds.

My brother once told me that I’m too logical, that I think with my head too much. Funny, because it’s true: that I think with my head too often and rarely ever with my heart. Funny too, because who would think that there’s such a thing as being too logical?

I always thought that people were too naïve, that they weren’t logical enough. I always thought that those who weren’t very logical were dumb in a way and the lines they fell for and the lies they fell for baffled me to no end. Yet in a way, I envied them. I envied the fact that they could let their heart take over and throw all logic aside: that they didn’t rationalize situations and weigh the pros and cons of every opportunity that presented itself; that even when they did, they often threw the logical choice out of the window and instead followed their heart. I envied them then and I envy them still.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately: about this and that and him and her and them –in a nutshell, about everything. I try to shut off my mind, but I just can’t seem to. Even in my sleep I find myself dreaming about this and that and him and her and them and each time, the rational outcome prevails. At first thought, the topic or subject is ruled by my heart, but it never fails –eventually, my more logical self takes over and the outcome is one built on a logical thought process. It never fails, but for once, I’d like that to not be the case.

Even when I try to let my heart overtake my mind and when I think that at last it has succeeded, in creeps my old friend, Rationale, to stomp on my heart so that no one else can. But hey, I guess I might as well do it to myself instead of letting someone else do it, right?

Think of You Still

I can’t get you off of my mind. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried. But I can’t. You’re always there: when I’m going about my day; when I’m trying to study; when I’m talking to other people or merely people watching; when I’m trying to sleep; whenever. You’re always there. And no, I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing that you are; I’m just stating a fact. And the fact is: it sucks. Big time.

I’m fully aware of the realty of “things:” of how things are playing out –seemingly unspoken; of the fact that time is very quickly winding down; of the fact that I’m completely unsure about what the future holds –and for the first time not in a “Carpe diem,” “Que Sera Sera” type of way. I’m unsure about the future and dare I say, it scares me? But if I’m being honest with myself, it does indeed scare me. And the fact is: it sucks.

I can’t get you off of my mind. Some days I wish that I could, but I know that I really don’t want to. I suppose that in time I will –if I have to. Hopefully, I won’t have to. This isn’t me. I don’t have these problems. At least I didn’t think I did. The fact is, apparently, I do. And the fact is: it sucks. Big time.

The Unknown

I miss you. Strange, because you’re still here. My mind is playing tricks on me, I know. Telling me what the heart is going to want in the not too distant future.

I’m ready to go. I need to go. To get away. To write the next part in my “book of life.” Yet I wonder if and how you fit into the pages. I know you’re there somehow, I’m just not sure as to which pages I’ll find you on: what roll you’ll play in the grand scheme of the story; whether you’ll make appearances often at first and then slowly fade away; whether the reverse will happen; whether you’ll be a recurring and significant character in the story.

I wonder these things as I do with all books I read. With each page turned, I find myself guessing as to how the book is going to end and I find myself guessing as to how this particular story is going to end. It’s like one of those great books that comes to an abrupt end and leaves you wondering about how the story in fact plays out: what may or may not have happened to or between the characters at the end of the book; did they make it or didn’t’ they? Did that someone you’ve suspected all along complete the crime or didn’t they? What happened? You don’t know and you never will; the outcome of the story is solely up to you to determine; up to your imagination and rationale to fill in the blanks –to piece the story together.

It seems as though the ending will be one that is inconclusive and you’re left imagining how rationale will weave its way into the story. But it never does. It never does. And it’s up to you to fill in the blanks.

It’s strange, this book I’m writing. I keep taking wild guesses as to how it all plays out and after seemingly running every possible scenario through my mind the only thing I know is that I miss you. My imagination runs wild and rationale never kicks in and I imagine every possible scenario and, I miss you.