In me there’s two people, like there always are. A scientist and a playwright. They each have different roles, different habits, and different times.
The scientist is methodical, objective and at peace with himself. At least that is what he thinks, but the play reveals that emotions can easily bias his objectivity.
Sometimes to the scientist it feels as if there is no emotion in him, but of course there is. It only reveals itself when the play starts, but it is always there, providing bias among other things.
At times the playwright attempts to find a play and a role in it, but being a playwright he often does so to an extreme. At other times he tries to accept all emotion. At those times, he is weak, and the scientist creates exceptions. Exceptions for stress and anger, because he observes those as the most harmful.
But the scientist can only speak for himself and sometimes all emotions are needed.
From here on neither knows what to do. They only know what they know.