Dead inside

Sometimes I just want to give up, stop, shut down. I want to stop talking, stop feeling, just be dead inside. I can still function that way, still get things done. In fact I’d probably get more done without my own idiocy getting in the way. Dead inside sounds good right now, perhaps I’ll just use this insomnia to clean all night. Cleaning is such a wonderful non-emotional, non-speaking activity. Something that proves I can still function, and that maybe I’m not such an awful aspect of this world.