The [Dangerous] Tug of War Between Longing and Anger

by Ines Goei

Push and pull. The careful tightrope of missing someone, yet feeling exasperated, stretches the heart in two. Opening a wide gap in between the two pieces, big enough to be filled with self-pity, doubt, and anger. Absent, castaway, irretrievable, unknown but most importantly forgotten, fill the space up until it's ready to burst.

The hateful words dance around the space in glee. Content in filling your body up, they strut in celebration for feeling so prevalent and popular in your state of anguish. In its swollen state, the feeling of hate arises. The scorn and disdain of juggling your prime instinct versus your expected reaction. The importance of upholding a respectable image. An image that you crafted to portray your own self-respect and values. The careful detail put into the values you feel should belong to you. How you feel versus how you should feel. The fine line feels impossible to uphold. The towering truth and betrayal of human impulse spins you around until you feel like you're too dizzy to ever stand up again. Until you feel your legs give way under you, and you're too tired to try anymore.

However, swirling in your anger, you feel the immense pull of desire. The desire to be heard; to yell, scream, cry, anything to capture the understanding of the one who has hurt you. But deep down, in a pit of darkness, an ever-growing fire burns you to keep quiet. Leaving small scars in your chest, your stomach, your heart.

Urging you to remain your stoic and careless self. "Be mature," it screeches at you,

"Stop overreacting". The growing fire soon controls you. Erases and eradicates your desires. You keep quiet because you think your intuition is telling you to do so. But no matter how much the fire burns and scars you, the small feeling of yearning remains.

In the ash, left by your own fire, the immense feeling of wanting shines through.

So bright and beautiful, it clears away the ashes, heals your scars, and pulls all the broken pieces together. The overpowering feeling of longing forever lives inside of you, and so you succumb to it. You succumb because missing someone is a tyrannical force. There is no escaping the incessant demand to talk to a person who brings you joy. There is no amount of anger and hate in the world to vanquish longing.

And so, you extend an olive branch. A branch to mend the gap that left you with two broken hearts instead of a singular whole heart, and you hope your person pulls the branch towards them with all their strength. You hope their hands blister and bleed because they want so badly to mend what they broke. And you simply hope that they care enough.

The two clashing emotions slowly fuse together, mixing so perfectly that no one would ever suspect you were walking the tightrope. No one would be able to tell you were torn between what should be right and what isn't. Nonetheless, your almost healed scars remain. Your body never quite forgetting.

The disconnect between body and mind reveals itself in its clearest form when someone you care about hurts you.