Flatness

I'm no expert on this grief thing, or indeed on this life thing. I keep hoping there will be a time when I suddenly arrive into great wisdom, or at least be able to say, "Yeah, okay, makes sense." So far? No luck.

This photo is called "As flat as it gets." Accurate
caption is accurate. Source.

I've fallen into one of those vortexes of nothing in the last week or so, where I don't really feel anything. Not happy, not sad, not angry--just flat. It's happened before, and I suspect it will again, but it's an odd feeling to be suddenly swept off your feet by nothing at all. It's not like the crashing waves of grief, nor the bubbly lightness of joy. Nothing crushing me down, nothing lifting me up. Just nothing.

It's worrying when I can't conjure up emotions, not even at a time when it would be appropriate. Not even when it's expected.

Except. Except except except. I managed some (okay, quite a lot of) emotion when I saw the screening of Allegiance earlier this week. Is this what I've come to, that I can only experience emotion when other people are performing it? Is this why other people like TV so much? (I've always had books, so TV's pull is fairly minimal and a bit of a mystery to me.) Are we all just flatlining on our own emotions and substituing someone else's pretend ones?

I hope not. I hope this is a thing that passes, as it always has before. Because I'm not convinced that a flat life is worth getting out of bed for.