Years ago, I started to notice that my emotions were starting to numb away. I remember when I first recognized this effect: it was when I received notice that a former donor had betrayed me in a pretty nasty sense. (Back then it was about a 3000 bucks telephone bill). No matter what happened in detail, I recognized that this was a moment where I was supposed to be very angry. However, I wasn't. No shock, no surprise, no belated emotional response somewhat later-ish, just this big nothingness, and inbetween, some cold calculation whether it was worth a payback or not. I came the conclusion, it wasn't worth it, anyhow.
The only close-to-emotional response I noticed within was the intellectual recognition that under normal circumstances this whould scare me shitless about myself.
Many times since then. I have hoped, begged, prayed that this process would finally complete and rid me of my emotions alltogether. I hate these unfinished things. Being somewhat emotional and somewhat numbed is a weird thing. It is unpredictable and inconsequent. And as a matter of fact, this process has developed pretty far until now. Many things don't touch me anymore. However, those emotions that remain have grown more intense. It is a very interesting occupation to observe which things still trigger me. Music sometimes does the trick. Special well-done emotional scenes in films as well. Fictional things most of the time alltogether. Not always, though. (see last entry...)
It makes me wonder what I should make of this.
After all these years, I come to believe that I will lose more of my ability to feel normal emotions. It seems to come naturally. It's just loike getting older. It feels like losing bits and pieces of myself. The parts that make me human. Does this mean I am kinda "losing my humanity"? Like in some roleplay, value decreased from 6 to 5 or something like this? I don't know. But this is the closest thing to a working description that I could give. This is how it feels. Like losing the human in me.
On the other hand, this makes these rare moments where I really feel extremely precious to me. Even if these emotions are sometimes fiction-triggered, they make me feel alive. At least beyond a working physiology (I do live, mind ya...). Even these moments which are painful.
How did I get here? I started writing this entry after reading a book which was sort of a fictional diary of the 3rd World War. It was written from a pretty personal viewpoint, and it ended, well, with the end of the world as we know it. The books last two pages made me cry. Nevertheless it feeld good, because the emotion feels real. As real as the emotions I had on this sunny day in Scotland. And definetely more real than the numbness inbetween these moments.
I come to believe that my emotions have a high value for me, no matter what they offer me. I believe that I was young and unexperienced when I hoped they would dry ou finally. Even though I might have had my reasons. But I am not sorry for having had these thoughts. On the one hand, this is how I felt about it back then. And secondly, I simply can't feel sorry for it anymore.
