I was thinking about some conversations I've had in the more or less recent past.

My sister says most people like either Emily or Charlotte Bront�, and don't care so much for the other. I read Wuthering Heights, and the only thing I've read by Charlotte is her introduction to that book. But that was enough for me to know that I am in Emily's camp, and not Charlotte's.

Emily's camp is about passion and feeling, it would seem. Charlotte's world is proper and refined and elegant and reserved. But Emily's world is unhinged, dangerous, emotional, and unpredictable.

I am quite sure that most people who know me in real life consider me a cold and calculating type. A Charlotte? Those who know me from this place are more likely to recognize my inner Emily.

The cold and calculating part is not a lie. That is, actually, an important part of who I am. It's not the only part, or the most important part. I've just found it to be the part that is most useful and most able in dealing with the outside world and the day to day. Those other parts of me are too mercurial and too fragile to be seen out of doors much. So the Peter Wiggin in me acts as the bouncer, screening potential clubgoers at the door, performing triage to decide what level of access each is allowed to have.

"By this curious turn of disposition, I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness, how undeserved, I alone can appreciate." -Wuthering Heights

i grind with greater energy in proportion to the increase of pain,

greyarea

Diaryland