If I were to ask my friends or family to describe me in a paragraph, words like detached, aloof, disconnected would be used more often than I drink tea. Knowing myself, I would probably be the last person to disagree with these observations. I like keeping myself away from the part in my brain where emotions reside. It feels like a slimy, sticky, disorganised and chaotic kitchen where spiders and cockroaches crawl about like kings, knowing the power they have over me. And all the power I am left with is squealing and running as fast and as far as I can. Of course, the trap here is that the slimy kitchen is a part of my slimy brain. The slimy brain that creates so many illusions that I have lost count. It makes me think that the spiders are beautiful daises basking in the sun. My stupid heart filled with hope turns around to look at the spiders more closely, only to have it jump in my face and make me squeal louder than the first time. Sitting on the sticky floor of this scruffy kitchen, I seriously consider training my cat to make tea for the times like these when I really need it but am too jaded to make it myself. Clearly, it’s a bad day.
I thought that bad days are as worse as it gets. But the human inside me is more unreasonable than I thought. For someone who spent the first paragraph comparing emotions to spiders and cockroaches, I feel like a hypocrite to be saying that the days filled with an emotionless turmoil are more disturbing. Now, I have been told a number times by a number of different people that ’emotionless’ is also a very prominent emotion. But that explanation feels like a pair of clothes you buy because it looks pretty and classy, but never wear because just doesn’t look right when you do. After dealing with many such days, I have come to realise that the most annoying part is that there is no response or feeling to such days. On the happy days, I feel as bubbly as Jessica Day. On the dark and broody ones I radiate Meredith Grey vibes. But what on earth am I supposed to do on a day when my emotions have disappeared to a point where I cannot even decide which T.V show to binge watch.
The emotionless days come most unexpectedly and bring a huge bag full of laziness with it. Just a while ago I was happily chewing on mint and deciding on the list of people I hate and now just in a day all the hate and the bit of love has hidden behind a huge rock that is too heavy for me to move. And here I am, sipping on my fourth cup of tea, with a laptop to my right and a half finished novel to the left wondering where all the spiders went.
Instead of just admitting that ’emotionless’ is also an emotion, my brain of course had to go through and extensive phase of denial about being human. I made tremendously unsuccessful attempts at describing and categorising my emotions in the most logical and meticulous way possible only to resort to a Google search. The Google search was most definitely a bad idea, because it told me that I was suffering through a dozen mental illnesses simultaneously. My brain, still unconvinced decided to extensively read about every one of them before finally giving in. And I had my moment of epiphany, just like Sherlock Holmes, I told myself softly, “It’s not a pleasant thought, but I have this terrible feeling from time to time, that we might all just be human.”