This is one of those days, I guess. Those days when you're not living.
You do some stuff: some housework here, some reading there. But it feels like you're not really doing anything, because you're not really there.
It's one of those days when you don't leave the house under any circunstamce, because you're too terrified of actually having to "participate" in real life. And sometimes you feel ok about not making any effort.
It is like you're getting so deep in the sadness that you actually stop feeling it, and you begin to feel nothing instead. It's a huge amount of deep nothing.
You spend the days doing things in automatic mode. You wake up and make it through the day as if it was an obligation, something you must keep doing to not disturb the order of the world, to not disturb other people's lives.
Not even the songs can help you anymore. But it's fine! You're fine!
As long as nobody realizes what's really going on, or as long as you don't shut the world down. As long as you don't shut your world down.
"The moon is up over one tree hill..."
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