Head vs. Heart

This work of fiction was inspired by a piece called Paranoid by Vancouver artist Ben Roback.

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Both the push and pull of the window to the outside world is magnetic.

The rational self pushes like negative charge to negative charge. It’s sensible, wants to remain calm, and get on with the day. He’s not coming, no need to suffer by peering through the window endlessly for something that will never appear. Encouraging you to be a part of that world out there, even if only for a moment.

But the irrational. The irrational pulls with an enticing strength that feels so good to indulge in the moment, but deep-down contradicts each and every instinct. Entertaining the part of the mind that runs wild with dark, unrealistic possibilities.

In the end, it’s the pull that wins. It’s almost always the pull that wins. Some days the battle is longer than others, energy and resistance channeled from some external power source that wills her to remain in the present.

Today, Fox folds into that sweet self-destructive temptation in an instant.

Prying those dusty blinds apart making just enough room to peer through. Her nose presses up against the cold pane of glass and ragged breath fogs the window with each heavy exhale. Eyes darting back and forth, becoming more and more frantic as time slips by. Seconds pass like minutes, minutes turn to hours.

She savours the routine like a drug that is impossible to escape.

There is something about today; air thick with want, with need. The anxiety is palpable that he will show, and that he won’t. He last surfaced over a week ago. 8 days to be exact. Always appearing in what feels like the exact moment self-worth finally overshadows that deep rooted desire for validation.

He knows her so well. Indulges her fantasies, tempers her insecurities, and draws her into a safe cocoon, isolating her from the reality that is life. A cozy haven she craves more and more after every conversation.

“Snap out of it” she mutters out loud to herself stumbling back from the window. Her eyes blinking furiously to rehydrate them. 

The rational breaks through for a brief moment to take in her surroundings, her current state. She has been neglecting herself this week in a fashion that warrants intervention.  

Food has been cobbled together only when hunger pangs weaken her entire body to exhaustion. Dishes spill over the edge of the sink onto the counter and litter other surfaces in her apartment. Clothes are strewn in heaps – clean mingling with dirty so it’s impossible to tell which is which. Dust collects, overlooked.

Every evening she promises herself that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will be the day she pulls herself together. Clean the apartment, dig into work, get into a healthy routine – start living life for herself again.

The problem with (and the brilliance of) tomorrow is that it is always one day away, tantalizingly out of reach.

“Hey Fox, I’ve missed you” he says suddenly standing in the doorway through that devilish grin that makes her heart melt. He always does that, pops up when she least expects, reaching the depths of her soul she can’t reach, overwhelmingly inviting.

The anxiety, the doubt, and the anger that had been building for one long week washes away in an instant. A flood of relief, damned only slightly by that nagging sensible voice. That never-ending battle between head and heart.

Where the hell have you been? her inner voice screams.

“Hiiiiii” she trills in a way that suggests all is peachy.

He moves to take her into a long embrace, two bodies melt into one in this delicious moment of physical touch. This most basic human need, craved heavily, but so infrequently indulged is absolute bliss. The scream of her inner critic is knocked down to a shout.

You deserve better than this.

“How have you been?” Fox whispers into his ear as the hug draws to a close.

“Great! Sorry, it’s been a bit since I last reached out. Things have been busy.“ he replies vague in his answer.

Stand up for yourself already!

“Oh gosh, no worries at all. I’m just happy to see you now.”

She knows that she deserves better, wants more. His inability to be consistent is tearing her up from the inside, but all is forgotten when that bright beam of undivided attention finds her. He sees her, understands her in a way that others don’t. Even if its infrequency is painful to the point that it’s almost unbearable, but the moment the light finds her she shines.

“How are you?” he inquires.

The thing that hurts so good is that he genuinely wants to know. This isn’t the kind of ask you toss to an old acquaintance you run into on the street hoping the answer is “Great!” so you can both move on. He is so present, so attentive, and so invested.. when he is there.

“Good, yeah great. Actually, something so funny happened the other day…”

Liar. You always share a funny little anecdote when you don’t want to divulge the truth.

This insane need to people please, to keep her “unpleasant” emotions and burdens to herself takes hold. It’s so engrained in her as a woman, so deeply rooted, that she barely notices that it’s not genuine. She has never been one to want to rock the boat, to make other people’s lives difficult. Always up against this overwhelming need to be pleasant, not to cause a stir, to satisfy.

He is disengaged. He knows this answer isn’t the authentic one.

“How are you really?” he interrupts.

Does he deserve this glimpse into what makes you tick?

She trades bits of self-discovery shamelessly like it’s currency. Exchanging pieces of herself for his time, for his attention. He is always in such awe at the way she can explore internally, connect the dots to slowly map her soul. It is so much easier when he is around to encourage it.

“I have been doing a lot of reflection on my empath ways as of late. I always took the fact that I feel other’s feelings as if they were my own as just the way I am, how I was born. But I’ve been wondering lately if this is a learned trait in order to appease those around me, something I did to survive, putting myself dead last in the pecking order of priorities.”

“Wow… you amaze me. It’s so inspiring for me to hear that this deeper level of connection with self is possible.” he purrs. 

Fox’s heart explodes. There it is, the moment she has been craving all this time. To be seen, to be heard, to feel acknowledged. It’s an addiction of sorts, that seems impossible to quit. She knows that he will have to go soon. These exchanges are becoming shorter and shorter as time passes. He has less time for her, and she can’t help but wonder what she did wrong.

Why can’t you open up to someone who can be there for you, mentally, emotionally and physically?

“Well, I wish I could chat longer, but I have to take off now..” he trails.

The goodbyes are never a long or drawn-out affair. The chasm inside her so raw, so tense, tension builds stronger and stronger. Wound up tight until she can’t stand it anymore. The bridge is about to crumble.

“I miss you already” she stammers through choked back tears. When she looks up, he is gone. The conversation done, over in what felt like an instant.

But, he was never really there. His physical body is a product of her mind in order to bring solace on those days where the loneliness is too much to bear. Another long, anxiety ridden wait until his name pops up again on her phone. Longing for the day irrational gives in to rational, a cease-fire in the battle of head and heart, pushing her into life in the outside world.