Those weird moments

Ever get one of those weird moments, when you’re just kinda sitting there minding your own business, everything is fine and peachy, you might even be doing something really enjoy doing. And then everything just kinda stops?

Like, all desire to do anything ceases and all you end up doing for several minutes (or sometimes hours) is just sitting there wondering why nothing is catching you attention anymore. It’s like someone took a giant blanket over your brain and everything feels awkwardly muffled. Food doesn’t taste as great, water doesn’t seem refreshing enough, your favorite game isn’t very enjoyable and you find yourself just going through the motions as opposed getting engaged in the activity.

You look around the room, there’s a television, you could watch something funny, but you can’t really be bothered. You’ve got Netflix movies, but they don’t seem too interesting. I guess I could take this time to doodle something, but you stare at the sheet of paper and the white emptiness just stares back at you. It’s like a mirror, reflecting the emptiness that you currently feel.

Maybe it’s an early sign of depression? But I don’t feel depressed. Maybe I’m just tired? Let’s try lying down on the bed for a while.

 

You sit there for several minutes, just staring up at the ceiling. It’s the first time you’ve noticed that the patterns of the stucco on the ceiling resemble this one weird pizza that you had with your friends several months back while on a road trip. You can recall exactly what happened, it was disgusting, tasted horrible, and smelt even worse. But you just lie there on the bed, staring at this ceiling pizza without any feeling. You remember that your friends made some hilarious jokes, but you don’t feel anything. The corners of your mouth couldn’t even be bothered to twitch in the memory of those jokes. It just seems empty.

It’s not like anything is wrong with my life. It just doesn’t feel. If anything, I feel like just sitting down and staring at a sheet of paper until it tells me that it’s okay to start something. Like I’m a student, sitting at his desk, waiting for the teacher to give me the instruction, “It’s okay to continue with your life now” but instead, here I am, waiting for a mysterious command from nothing but a sheet of paper and a blank text box on a screen.

The insides of my ears feels itchy.

 

 

Maybe I’ll grab another cup of water.