I overthink before I react.
It’s true in all situations. I have never been one to allow my emotions decide on anything. All outcomes are carefully and tediously constructed, played out in my mind and then, based on analysis and the most responsible choice, I act. I don’t even think of it as a reaction anymore, because to me, the word “reaction” evokes the impression of instinct. I’m not even acting… I’m merely carrying out the motion voted upon by the jury in my brain.
My major malfunction is that I am overly analytical about all aspects and situations. I have the capacity to remove all sentiment from my decisions, which has the effect of making me look, well, heartless. Vicious. The love child of Miranda Priestly and Hannibal Lector. In so many words…. a bitch. Not exactly an endearing quality.
To those who have seen past my seemingly chilled exterior, I am one big mushy cuddle-bug of a little girl, overly sensitive, with an unquenched thirst for love and affection in its many forms. To lovers I am a “sweetheart”; to family I give our name value; to friends I am loyal to my own end. I will do for those inside my heart till I have no ability, and then some more.
But everyone doesn’t see this. To those that don’t, I am this unfeeling beast that is driven only by fact and evidence; there is no sweet heart under skin; only ice and void, apparently. I’m a notch below sadistic and a step above miserable.
To those like me, I defend you. I understand you. It’s not that we don’t feel (because good Lord, do I ever feel). It’s our fear of acting rashly that keeps us from emoting, period. It’s our need for analysis and reason that keeps our faces stoic and our voices steady. But no one understands that under the calm are storm clouds and electricity and rubber bands pulled too taut. No one understands the need to hold back for fear of being open and vulnerable and weak… or at least, being seen as such. Because what is worse: being seen as weak, or being seen as heartless?
I choose heartless. With heartless, there is the potential of being strong. With heartless, I can pretend to not ache when I know how I’m seen. With heartless, I am made of steel and rock and nothing hurts me.
I choose heartless… because those who know me know differently. And for them, I pour this heart out.