A Dull Ache

I feel flat. Emotionally flat, like there’s something about me that’s deflated. Today my freeview box in my room broke, and I wasn’t phased. I wasn’t upset. I’m not even mad now. I’m just aware that my TV won’t work now. I’m aware that I feel flat, deeply aware of it. I’m aware that it’s not normal for me. But it doesn’t affect the fact that I feel flat.

There’s an ache, too. A dull ache of sadness, like the beginnings of a lump in my throat. That slight itch behind your eyes where you feel like you’re about to cry. I’ve got that. I can’t cry though. There’s nothing acting on me strong enough to make me cry. It’s an awareness again, the knowledge that this is how I feel coupled with the detachment of knowing that I can’t act upon it. It sucks.

My mum called it melancholy. She said it’s sadness and a bit of depression. She’s often right about shit like this, so I trust her opinion on it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt depressed before. This feeling of blank detachment. It’s quite frightening, actually. Stuff that I love doesn’t build me up. It’s just there, separate to me. I don’t want to do anything, but I know I should. I should be vibrant and up, pottering about doing stuff and things. But I don’t feel anything about that stuff and things. Again, they’re just there.

I’ve felt this for a week. I don’t know how people can do it for years at a time.