A simple thought is a chore. Trying to actually comprehend something is impossible. Taking directions is a struggle.
Nothing seems to click inside, because the inside is just white noise. Your thoughts are even a dull hiss, just static. Not even heavy doses of caffeine can wake you up.
It isn't depression. Function is still possible. You don't mind getting out of bed, getting dressed, going to work. You care, but only so much because you know, somewhere in your brain, you know you have to.
The tracking is off, the images a jumbled mess, and your mind's eye is squinting just to make sense of what you are seeing.
Emotion is present, not dulled, just not understood. You feel, and you know why. On a base level you comprehend the feelings that pass through the clutter, but it's all just out of reach...
If I keep up like this I'll be writing poetry about burnt out light bulbs and people standing on cliffs holding roses and contemplating parachute free sky diving.
I need to snap out of it, because even an Emo version of myself annoys me.
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