prosaic

it snuck up on me this time. it had been long enough that i did not recall if this is its modus operandi, and so i was unaware of it until just a few days ago. i meant to make note of it the day i noticed but i slept instead. every night since, when i have gotten home, i went to bed rather than sit here and think about it.

i have gone numb. that it is a simplified lie, but it is nearly true. i doubt if anyone knows how i feel or what is going on in my head, and i am quite certain they have not noticed any change. but my chest feels like it is stuffed full of cotton to the point of pressure. less ache, but less of everything. more nothing.

and i hate this more than what was before. at least then i felt. felt like a person? something. maybe it is necessary, i do not know, but i fear it overwhelming everything else. it seems to stay too long, and it loosens controls i do not like loosened.

the reason i worry about it not being just cyclical is because if i leave it alone, it is self-reinforcing. it takes a lot to get out of it, if i ever fully do.

so maybe it is the emotional default? maybe this is why so many people are depraved or debased.. if the bulk of society is in this default state, i would have a reason to not like people beside being merely particular or anti-social.

i do not think i can reread this one for mistakes. it is boring even to me.