Emotionless and Emotionful
Journal Entry 26/07/23
Intellectually, I’m stimulated.
Emotionally, I’m downtrodden.
I wrote this journal entry after this course of events:
I was pulling up to my house when a bird flew in front of my car, smashing its small head into my hood.
I screamed. Stopping immediately, I ran onto the street, hoping that I could nurse the poor creature to health again. He died instantly. Unable to leave the corpse on the street, I ran inside my house and grabbed a paper towel. Then I came back, wrapping the bird in the cloth.
I named him Treble. Because I was singing in the car when he crashed into me. And Treble sounded like Trouble, which this daring bird clearly was. What was he thinking, darting out in front of my car?
Emotions welled in my throat as I moved him into a nearby patch of grass. He’d be the meal of the neighbourhood cats. As I laid him down, I observed his body.
A wave of scientific curiosity overtook me. I spread out its wings, noting how they folded in and extended. I noticed that its eyeball popped out of the socket, clinging to the body by a thin, red cord. It was so perfectly round. I felt its beak and talons, inspecting every crevase of the body, fascinated by the cold flesh. I left the bird without any tears. Just pure and cold curiosity.
How could both be true? How could I be sorrowful for the sudden passing of the innocent Treble? While at the same time, callously inspecting the bird’s body with emotionless awe?
Am I emotionless? Or emotionful?