Matthew Frosaker ’23
My dog sits on the couch staring out the window. Her eyes are pink and droop low with green goop on the sides. They look so human.
In the time my mom is out of the house, Bella enters a painful depression. Time stops, and she is left alone waiting for the door to open so she can live again. When that door opens, she experiences true love and joy; the pain was worth it.
If you graphed her happiness and sadness, then averaged it, the data would show no emotion: a simple stream of nothingness. This is the same for everyone; the heroin addict who spends half his life waiting, and the office worker who doesn’t feel much at all.
The highs in our lives distract us from the truth: that there’s nothing and never will be. I often ask myself, do I want to be like my dog or an office worker. I could feel so strongly, then so terribly, in torturous swings, or I could feel nothing at all, and my life could blend into a lifeless grey.
When put like that it doesn’t really matter.