I’d Rather Be Emo Than Apathetic

There’s something about apathy that feels worse than sadness. Apathy is hollow. It’s a blank stare, a shrug, a disconnect that leaves you floating through life without feeling anything at all. And maybe that’s why, if given the choice, I’d rather be emo. I’d rather feel everything too much than nothing at all.

Being emo gets a bad rap, but honestly, there’s something powerful about wearing your heart on your sleeve. There’s a rawness to it—an unapologetic willingness to let yourself be messy, complicated, and consumed by your emotions. It’s not about wallowing; it’s about feeling. Deeply. Even if it hurts. Especially if it hurts. There’s something alive in that.

Apathy, though? Apathy is numb. It’s a kind of silence where there should be music. It’s that blank space where passion used to live but doesn’t anymore. It’s safe, sure, but it’s empty. And that emptiness? It’s scarier than any heartbreak or angst could ever be. It’s the absence of care, the quiet fading of color until everything is just...grey.

At least being emo means you’re engaged with the world, even if it’s through a lens of heartbreak and existential dread. It’s feeling the highs and the lows, finding beauty in the melancholy, knowing that even in your darkest moments, you’re alive. The pain, the joy, the anger—it all means something. And when you embrace that, you’re actively pushing against the pull of apathy. You’re refusing to be neutral.

The truth is, emotions are messy. They’re overwhelming, sure, but they’re real. I’d rather drown in feeling too much than float through life not caring at all. Being emo means I’m connected—to the people, the experiences, the moments that make up my life. Even if those moments are filled with longing, regret, or sadness, they’re mine. I feel them. I process them. I live through them.

Apathy? Apathy is drifting. It’s stepping back from the fire, refusing to engage with the heat of life. It’s not safety—it’s detachment. It’s pretending the highs and lows don’t matter, but in doing that, you lose the intensity of both. You lose the spark. You lose yourself.

So yeah, I’d rather be emo. I’d rather feel all the big, messy emotions—the kind that make you want to scream along to sad songs at 2 a.m., that make you write poetry in the margins of notebooks, that make you cry just because a song hit you in a weirdly perfect way. Because in the end, it’s better to feel too much than to feel nothing at all.