I am sometimes quite serious when I ask myself that question. It makes me feel despair, fear. Not fear of death itself, but what makes me feel able to ask myself that question. How can I be dead? I am still breathing. I still eat. I still shover every morning, go off for school or work, and then, when I get home… hm, that makes me wonder, what do I do when I get home? I know I do something. I must have done something, since time is still passing me by. I remember no details. Sometimes I watch pointless TV-shows – perhaps they once were interesting, but now I am pretty sure i just watch to let my brain relax – sometimes I sit in front of the PC, but I cant remember what I do, except surf the net, sometimes I read, though I have lost that feeling of putting myself in the place of the characters, feeling what they feel.
In the end, I think that is the key problem, I have stopped feeling. It is not like I have heard heartbreaks described – the emptyness – but now I have not had my heart broken, not for such reasons one would considerate, thoug. No, I am not hearbroken. But I think the feeling is a bit similar, though. A bit of the emptyness recembles. Even so, I am not heart. I have just stopped feeling. Like if I was dead.
What would trigger such a thing? I do not know. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to pay attention to has happened in my life. I am quite ordinary. Or at least I was. I do not say that anything has changed. Perhaps that is the reason. Nothing has changed. Still, all has changed. My life has become such a rutine to me, so still, that I have lost the ability to sence changes. The small changes.
Probably this is not making any sence. But it is what I know to be true. Nothing has changed, yet all has. The small differences. Lately – lately is an unfeir word for this description, the last three quarters of the year are more appropiate, more correct – I have grown to become anti-social. I have lost some of my friends because of it. It is all my fault. I have fallen so deep into rutines that I have forgotten to break them with small meetings, talks, depper conversations, or just social gathering. I should have remembered. I am no lunatic or anything, it is just that now I am afraid I will get all alone.
The non-excistence occured before this time, though. This is just the effects it is pulling off. It started some years ago, I guesse, not quite sure when.
I remember one time, sitting in a chair in the living room. I was alone. The sun was berely shining outside, pulling through some clouds far up at the sky. The grass was green, fresh. I think it must have been spring. The colors was so clear. I remember I could almost feel the atmosphere. Then, in the middle of nothing, I started laugh. It was just an ordinary day, but I laughed of all my hearts desire. Nothing was amusing, funny, or anything. Still I laughed. Today, I miss that presence I had. Then, I knew I excisted. Now I am not that sure anymore.
I still taste food, I still smell, I still can feel the difference from fabricks. I still pick up situations, others tone layers. I see it all, feel it all, but my mind does not correspond. I do not enjoy it the way I used to. Perhaps I am depressed, I know I was, not long ago. I didn’t tell anyone, just shield myself the more.
I am hard to get through to these days. Perhaps I should say impossible. I get angry so fast, people get suprised by my temper. I do not mean to. I snap at anything, without reason. Sometimes it confuses me. Yet, it is the one feeling which still comes to me clearly, anger. It is not the best feeling, not one anyone would choose, but it is the only one. Do not get me wrond, I do not snap at purpose. I never intend to. I just get so mad sometimes. One would not think so, but sometimes I’m even grateful for it. At least, for those small minutes, perhaps even seconds, I feel something, a piece of thin tread holding my hope up, the hope claiming I am not dead.
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