Author’s Note: I’ve been seeing all of these quotes and such talking about how heart over head or vice versa is the better path to take. However, I’m rather fed up with seeing all of these graphics, quotes, etc saying that, because I really think that the whole situation is subjective. If someone prefers making decisions according to their emotions, then it’s their choice, and if someone is more driven by logic, then it’s their choice, and there really is no need to bash a person for thinking that way.
Because of that, I more or less started writing out conversations between two very different people. One, a girl who is highly logical and driven by reason, and another, a boy who is highly passionate and emotionally charged. I wrote this because I wanted to point out how different people can be happy living a lifestyle that may be the idea of ‘bad’ to someone else. I’m kind of sick of people saying that everyone should value passion over logic or vice versa, because if everyone really did think the same way, our world would be a terrible place.
This piece isn’t meant to be romantic in any way, the two characters are just the opposite gender to help differentiate them from one another.
There was a girl that sat in front of him in math class.
All she ever paid attention to was the lesson, and diligently took notes.
He wished he could have that discipline when it came to math.
But he preferred Language Arts.
Curious about her, he worked up the courage to speak with her.
“I noticed that you got ninety five on the last test.”
“You’re really good at math.”
He didn’t bother pushing the conversation.
“How do you get this stuff?” He scowled at pages upon pages of her math homework.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise, “It’s simple, black and white. Right or wrong.”
“But that’s what I don’t like about it, it’s either right or wrong, no room for debate,” He shook his head.
“And that’s what I don’t like about Language Arts, too much wishy-washy nonsense.”
She knew he was good at English.
“Ooh, Shakespeare’s sonnets, I love those,” He peered at her worksheet.
“I don’t require your input,” She shifted her seat away from him.
He rolled his eyes playfully, “Fine, if you want to be that way. I’ll have you know I’m at the top of the class in English though.”
“I cannot tell if you’re attempting to show off or offering your help.”
“Maybe a bit of both,” He winked.
“I’ll have to decline that offer and tell you that I do not appreciate flaunting of one’s abilities,” She stood up and seated herself elsewhere.
She felt someone tap her shoulder. It was him.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t understand this topic,” He said.
“What part of it do you not understand?” She said.
“All of it,” He admitted sheepishly.
“Do you even pay attention in class?”
“I try, but I just don’t like it.”
“Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t listen.”
“What’d you get on the essay?” He waved the paper below her nose, where ‘98’ was scrawled in red ink.
She didn’t even say anything, she merely turned on her heel and walked away.
“Was I being too invasive?” He called after her retreating figure.
Again, no reply.
“I could help you on the rewrite,” He nudged her elbow, “I’m sorry about being so pushy earlier.”
“I accept the apology, but I don’t require your input.”
“So, what’s your favourite book?”
“The Grapes of Math.”
“You mean The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck?”
“No, no, it’s a book on numbers and patterns in everyday life.”
“That sounds boring.”
“How? Math is so fascinating.”
“Poetry is so pointless, it’s just comparing one thing to another.”
“It’s more than that!”
“You’re angry because you know it’s true.”
“No it’s not!”
“Then find me one poem that doesn’t use metaphors or similes.”
“Have you ever read R.M. Drake?”
“Do you know what ‘fun’ is?” He asked her one day.
“Yes, it’s a noun, commonly defined as enjoyment, or pleasure.”
“No, no, I meant if you have any experience with it. I mean, do you ever go outside, party or get together with friends?”
“Well, I do enjoy math and science, so I could say that I have fun in those classes, and I do have a study group that I get together with. Then again, fun is subjective, isn’t it?”
“Well, sure, but I still can’t see why you enjoy it.”
“How many girlfriends have you had?”
He flushed and looked away, “Twelve.”
“That’s at least one per year of school!”
“S-so?” He was still staring at the ground, “How many boyfriends have you had, then?”
She frowned, “You can die from a broken heart. Why risk all of that for a mere chance at happiness?”
And he smiled, “Because that risk it worth it.”
“I couldn’t imagine why.”
“How have you never been in love?” He sounded dumbstruck.
“I can’t bring myself to look at people that way.”
Those words stuck with him for the rest of the day.
“So, do you at least have a type?”
“My blood type is AB positive,” She replied.
“I didn’t mean your blood type, I meant like . . . a type of person that you’re interested in,” He said.
“Oh, you meant that way. No.”
“Why have you dated so many girls?”
“What?” He crossed his arms over his chest–a defensive motion.
“I’m just wondering.”
“Because being in love is a beautiful feeling, and even if it hurts, I want to feel it over and over again.”
“That sounds disgusting.”
“What was the last book you ever read?”
“Heart of Darkness.”
“Required reading doesn’t count.”
“A Brief History of Time.”
“I’m pretty sure that isn’t a novel, try again.”
“I wouldn’t remember then.”
“Hey, have you ever tried writing poetry?”
“Absolutely not. I’m terrible at Language Arts.”
“You’re so strange, you know that?”
“Why is that?” She narrowed her eyes.
“How can you have never been in love?” He asked.
“And how can you have fallen in love so many times?” She countered.
“Why do you always describe love in such a poetic way? It’s merely a chemical reaction. Every time you fall in love, it’s just a chemical reaction in your brain that consists of hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen and sulfur. It’s all science.”
“And you think science is beautiful, don’t you? There’s still science involved in love, so you can’t totally hate it.”
“I don’t care what you say, it’s illogical. I don’t want to fall in love.”
“You’re missing out then.”
She rolled her eyes, “I don’t see how heartbreak and lovesickness are such incredible experiences.”
“You learn from them, at least I have, you learn about people, and who’s the best person for you.” He adopted a faraway and wistful look in his eyes every time he spoke about love. As if he was still heartbroken over someone.
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. You don’t know what it feels like. Falling in love is like seeing in colour for the first time, and you still see everything in black and white.”
“Well, that’s what the world is, right? Black and white. Everything has to have some sense to it.”
“But there’s a pattern to it. A rhyme scheme,” She pointed to the first stanza, “You say literature isn’t like math, but it is, in some ways.”
“Well, it’s not like graphing or any of that garbage.”
“Graphing has patterns to it, too. Math is based around patterns.”
“Making all of your decisions by your emotions is self-destructive, you know.”
“Well, maybe valuing your head over your heart is self-destructive. You’ll never know what it feels like to really live, to really be happy. Logic is a confining force.”
“But maybe, we have different ideas of happiness.”
What would destroy her, would strengthen him.
And what destroyed him, would strengthen her.