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I Forgot How to Enjoy Life
When Excitement Drops to Absolute Zero
I think I forgot how to want things.
It is a strange, quiet kind of heavy. Not the sharp pain of grief. Not the dizzy spiral of anxiety.
It is a flattening, as if someone turned the volume knob of existence all the way down to absolute zero, and you only noticed once the silence was complete.
People talk about depression as sadness. Nobody tells you about this part: the numbness, the hollow space where your appetite used to live.
The world becomes a gray, featureless corridor. You keep walking, though you cannot remember choosing the direction.
The blueprint of a feeling
I remember what excitement felt like. Not the feeling itself, only its blueprint.
There was a time when the thought of somewhere new made my chest hum. Food was an experience, not fuel. Celebrations felt like possibility.
Now, a menu reads like a manual in a language I do not speak. Food tastes like gray dust. Travel is just the logistics of moving a heavy body from one room to another.
Love feels like a distant country I once held a passport for. The borders are closed now. I am not choosing this. The machinery…
