While growing up or trying to
Not knowing where to start
I looked around for someone who
May help reveal my heart
-Crackerbox Palace
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When I was younger I was always trying to understand the world around me because Brother was always trying to understand it. Things like science, math and alchemy. Tangible things. Logical and realistic things. This may have been the reason Brother didn't like some of the questions that I asked him as we were growing up.
"Brother, what are emotions?" I would ask him.
With his nose pressed in the pages of a book, Brother would always be so absorbed in the world of paper and ink that I would often have to repeat my questions before I got any reaction.
"Brother, what are emotions?"
He would turn his head slowly toward me with his eyes still scanning the worn and smudged pages of the text. Reluctantly he would finally tear them away to look in my direction.
"What do you mean, 'what are emotions?'" he would say in a slightly impatient voice, though I never took it personally. When Brother was started on one train of thought he was loath to jump onto another so suddenly.
"I mean, what are emotions? Are they…" I would roll my eyes upward while I looked for a proper explanation as though I would find the words written on the ceiling.
Brother would then mark his page and set the worn leather book down on the floor, waiting for clarity.
I would fidget a little, uncomfortable under the pressure to try and grasp the words I knew were in me, but my awkward tongue and young mind found it difficult to express them.
"Well, what I mean is… well, when I fall and scrape up my knees and hands it hurts. It hurts my body, right?"
Brother would nod.
"But, but if Brother called me a name or, or was mean to me it would hurt my heart in here," I would say, grasping tightly onto my T-shirt over the left side of my chest.
"And when I get scared, it makes my hair stand up and my stomach twists and aches."
Brother would furrow his brow thoughtfully.
"So, emotions: What are they?" Are they physical, like when I scrape a knee? When I get sad is it really my heart that is hurting, or is it something else?"
Brother would open his mouth to speak and close it without uttering a word. Open, close. Maybe his words were written on the floor, rather than the ceiling, as he stared down and scanned the lines of the wooden floorboards.
"If emotions aren't physical," I continued, "why would my body hurt? Does a person need a body to feel, or… just something else?"
Finally, Brother would simply say, "Hmm, I wonder?" and turn back to his book.
I was disappointed then that Brother didn't have an answer for me. To me, if anyone would have an answer, above all others, it would have been him, despite his disinterest in dealing with illogical things.
But looking back I know that a child could never have been able to answer a question like, 'what are emotions?'
I myself, have yet to answer the question, or understand where emotions come from. But I do know that a soul by itself is able to feel. My heart may not clench painfully when I am sad; I might not be able to cry tears of grief, or even happiness. My stomach doesn't twist and ache when I'm scared or nervous either. But I still have those emotions, imperfect though they may be without any sensation. My heart may not be there physically, but a heart must exist in a soul, because a soul is all I have, being bound now to a suit of armor.
I may not have a body and my emotions may be imperfect, but I still have my soul. That soul makes me, "me". I believe it makes me human; makes me real. And as long as my Brother believes it too, I can find a way to continue walking forward until I can make my emotions perfect once more.