To my rationalist mind, the worst judgement that I could pass on anything or anyone is: “That doesn’t make sense.” I’ve caught myself saying that a lot lately. For something to be good, it must be logical. Unfortunately, this rules out a lot of the best things in life.
Like love, for instance. Love doesn’t make sense. It is irrational to put someone else’s needs in front of your own. Likewise, emotions don’t make sense. They are messy and pointless, but they are what make people real.
War doesn’t make sense. Fighting with swords instead of words doesn’t make sense. Unfounded hatred doesn’t make sense. I don’t make sense.
I contradict myself daily, whether in word or in deed. I have unrealistically high expectations for myself and circumstances beyond my control and expect the world to fall into my preset categories and calendars and it never does. Some days I want to smile for no reason at all, and other nights I feel like crying into my pasta salad. And that doesn’t make sense at all, because according to my calculations, happiness is supposed to be circumstantial and pasta salad doesn’t need anymore salt and it really isn’t sad at all.
The world doesn’t make sense. It never has, and the stubborn desire of one 19 year-old girl won’t change that. The world is broken, which doesn’t help this confusion, but so am I. We must learn to live in this broken, senseless world regardless. Stomping my feet and scowling at the surrounding nonsense doesn’t help anything.
You know what also doesn’t make sense? Friends that love you when you are unlovable. Loyalty that lasts through the test of time and trials. A perfect God that loves an imperfect people. Beautiful sunsets that fall every night on a world that doesn’t deserve them.