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Because I think too much, and because we all have split personalities sometimes.
Emma feels guilty. The guilt she faces almost everyday. From the moment she wakes up until the time she falls asleep. She’s guilty her heart beats in the morning. She’s guilty she’s able to breathe, and move and speak. She feels guilty because she’s able to comprehend. Comprehension. We always think that understanding the meaning of something, understanding how something works or how someone functions, understanding why things happen, would make us more rational. That it would bring reason to folly. Emma disagrees. She understands how life works. She understands fully the way people think, why and how they react. And because she understands all this, she feels guilt.
Guilty, because she knows that her habitual choices, her selective thinking would evidently cause a rippling effect on she and her surroundings. It’s as simple as expression. Emma is aware that what she says affects herself and others. They all say honesty is the best policy but we all know that it’s bullshit. These are the lies we were brought up with, lies taught in hope of conduct. We all know now honesty has nothing to do with virtue. Chary, prudence, tactfulness. These are what we teach ourselves. And she has to learn to deal with this. The guilt of lying or the guilt of hurting. The guilt of being.
So she says she’s proud of being a woman. She stands up for her rights, she chooses her path in life, she wears t-shirts bearing slogans that expresses homology between both genders. But see when she thinks about it, she really doesn’t want equality. Sure, there’s the occasional need to show them she’s as smart, as hardy and rugged. But then again she enjoys the special attention she gets when she acts the weaker sex. Don’t we all? Sure, we can get the door ourselves but hey isn’t it much easier for him to get it for you? We make our way up the ladder as a woman, and get more credence and acknowledgement as opposed to men. The ability to manipulate the position of being seen as the weaker sex actually gives us more power over men. Emma knows this. We all do. And yes, once again, she feels guilty. Guilty for making them believe that we abhor inequality amongst sexes. For making them take pity on us, and using this to step over their stupid little minds. Playing the underdog doesn’t necessarily make u a loser.
The guilt that comes with achievement. The guilt that comes with pleasure.
She lives through this everyday. Guilty at the sight of food. Guilty for consuming, and for not consuming. She doesn’t know who she’s pleasing anymore. She’s eating for her friends and starving for herself. Exasperation sets in. She knows it’s not uncommon. She knows it’s all in the mind. But what lingers becomes an obsession. And the guilt of having that obsession leads to an attempt at rationalization, finding possible causes of her perpetuating disorder. But she knows any attempt at all seems futile. The search for correlating factors between food and behaviour becomes a barren justification. She just wants to. That’s the bottom line. It’s not that whole bullshit about her doing it for the lack of love, or the lack of attention. She just likes being weightless. It’s like renouncing from sin, starving off the guilt. The frailty of it all seems pretty. And she likes just this.
The smile she has on her face is carved out of guilt. Who wants to be that wreck who cries to everyone, bearing all her insecurities and allowing judgment upon herself? Not her. She knows she could do it, but then again, she knows that every single one of those whom she speaks to, telling her they’d be there, telling her it’s ok to cry. Its all out of guilt. The guilt they feel, if they didn’t present themselves as the comforting, loyal friend. Believing would just make her feel worst. She doesn’t want to be an obligation.
Noone does.
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retorsion's journal
