Am I Dead Inside?

I can’t cry during Titanic. Can’t being the operative word because I’ve actually tried.

And it’s not just Titanic. I sit through every heart wrenching film the Odeon has to offer, next to my best friend who’s going through Kleenex like tears are back in fashion, and I’m just sitting there thinkingplease just give me one tear, just one little tear. But alas, nothing.

It’s not that I never cry, I mean the check-out boy at KFC who gave me the wrong order once is testimony to that. It’s more that I seem to have accidentally trained my body to recognize it as a sign of weakness. It falls into the same category as all those other things normal girls should be able to do, but I find such a challenge. Like say the L word (to someone, anyone other than my dog). Or text a guy first. Or bloody hell even hug my friends without thinking, “Okay get off me now, I’m patting your back, why aren’t you getting the hint, everyone knows the back-pat is a sign to immediately remove yourself from me”.

Now I’ve put a lot of thought into this so hear me out… maybe it’s not me that’s the problem. Maybe it’s every other girl in the world with an overly developed level of sensitivity, making me look bad, and ruining all the hard work put in by women who have chosen to evolve past housewives.

They go around, telling guys how much they l*ve them after three weeks of dating, and cry on trains when they read a story in the Metro about a kitten being put in a dustbin and Lord save me, even update their statuses with quotes from The Notebook. But because there’s an actual army of them, instead of cringing, everyone’s got used to it, and dare I say it accepted this as the norm.

Then there’s me. And I think surely I haven’t got it so wrong.

So it takes me a little while to warm up to someone. Even if I really want to I can’t just go up to them and say “hell, I like you, wanna make out” (and jeez isn’t that the man’s job anyway?)

So I watch My Sisters Keeper and think “that’s so sad” instead of letting my the sadness run down my face. At least I can leave the cinema without mascara on my chin.

So I’m stubborn as hell and won’t admit  it if nervous. Is that really the worst quality you can find in a girl?

Oh it is..? Then darling I’m screwed.


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