It's quiet. Too quiet.
How do you get to a point in your life where you don't feel anything anymore? The numbness is no longer intriguing; it's as much a part of you as your emotions used to be, and you can't remember a time before it. You wonder what it was like to FEEL. To feel a hot rush of overwhelming happiness, sweeping away all else. Or the crushing disappointment that made you feel your life was ending and the sky was falling, all at once. Now, however, the days shuffle by quietly, and you can barely recall the undulating waves of emotion that you once rode. If the doctors were to check your ECG, you feel sure it would be nothing but a flat line of emptiness. Nothing bothers you, nothing surprises you, nothing fazes you in the least. And you can't help but wonder if this is peace in the true sense of the word, or something more sinister.