I was born without emotions. For some time I did not understand why others seemed to experience events and situations differently than me, it wasn’t that I didn’t care, I just didn’t know how, or even a better word, what to express. One day I decided that I wanted to feel. I wanted those experiences that everyone else was having, even if they weren’t the best. I wanted to feel normal, and belong. I created an emotion donation box, that sat outside my front door, for anyone who was willing to donate their unwanted emotions. One thing I learned from creating this box, the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.
Each day I woke up only to find that the day was filled with nothing better than the nightmares I endured the night before. My emotion box yielded the same dark, unwanted emotions that I was plagued with each and every minute.
I open my eyes and clear the sleep dust from their corners, I groggily sit up and swivel to the side of my bed, yet another day of disappointment awaits. Except…I don’t feel empty? Something is different. None of the nausea that accompanies depression, none of the repetitive thoughts of what I could have done that accompany regret. I feel warm and content–is this happiness? I immediately run to my front door, to my emotion box that I relent to check every day. I look to my left, nothing. I look to my right and catch a glimpse of someone walking around the corner. I eagerly chase after them, keen to thank this person for what quite literally is the happiest day of my life. Upon reaching the point where I last saw them there is nothing, no sign that anyone was here just a few moments ago.
The glee that they gave me is overwhelming and overpowering, everything delights me, all I can think of is how badly I would like to thank them for what they did. They were wearing your average jeans and a red hoodie–nothing entirely discernible. I then return home, overjoyed beyond compare. I turn on the television to catch up on the news, and there was breaking news live on a scene, paramedics line a perimeter set-up by several police cars. The camera pans to the person on top of the building above…then…they jump. A man, no older than twenty, wearing jeans and a red hoodie.
I never did get to thank them, the person who gave up their last ounce of happiness, so I could experience my first.