and I just get by by pretending that I don’t. Not inwardly, I mean on the outside. A mask of sanity. I’m a apathetic misanthrope portraying the character of a normal lovable person in a perpetual improv act.
I’m polite and sweet. I listen to people. I laugh at their jokes. I’m considerate. My mind is dissecting them. I’m dead inside.
I’m just not there.
I’m not depressed any more. I haven’t been for almost a year, but I no longer feel complex emotions of any kind. Some would call this a mixed blessing. There is nothing mixed about it. If I had to choose, I would trade constant depression for constant emotionlessness in an instant.