Inertia

I feel as though I live two lives these days. Work is a necessary distraction from the searing numbness that fills me. Getting out of bed each morning is a task. I somehow get ready for work, and only then feel like I can move again. Once there, I talk, smile, converse, compute. Another day goes by. The method acting of being ‘normal’ is the closest I get to feeling such. Peel away the outer layer and there's nothing but an abyss of emptiness staring back.

Some days it is hard to breathe. In the middle of my day, I find my chest constricted, the act of breathing trapped somewhere between my lungs and the synapses of my brain. On other days, it is so easy to get carried away by an idea, the brilliance of people around and the great goal we strive for. Until I remember, I happily forget.

I'm not even sure why I feel, or don't feel this way. The hardest part is getting out of the inertia of immobility, and doing something that reminds me of myself. My strong sense of self preservation ensures that I park it for another day.

I go through the motions of regular routine, tracing the steps of a somnambulist. An automaton operating on the tenets of Duty, Routine, and Responsibility. The rest of me is sleeping somewhere, the soul music locked away.

Is everything fine? I'm not sure. Do I want things to change? I don't know. Can I help myself? Who knows?