Unfeeling

Sometimes I wonder how I'll look back on these years. Will I someday get a new lease on life and be able to view this period of mild depression as an inevitable but regrettable interlude? Or will this emotion-dampening fog simply remain, gradually thickening over time until it merges into the resignation and dementia of old age?

Fortunately, it's not unpleasant; in fact, it spares me unpleasantness. Yesterday evening I was feeling unloved and forgotten. By instead of spiralling into misery, as I might have done in the past, I simply shrugged it off and plodded through the remnants of my ordinary routine.

I woke up in the same state and it was with this feeling of indifference that I received Pasillero's invitation for this evening. I thought it would cheer me up; after all, this was the interest and affection I'd been missing, right? Instead I felt a perverse desire to say no, or say nothing at all.

I didn't, though, because I do want to see him. I will play the part of being enthusiastic today as he sends me text after text detailing what he wants to do during our playtime because experience has taught me that once face-to-face, I'll actually feel that enthusiasm. But part of me wishes he wouldn't bother and I'm not sure what to do with that.

I wonder if I'd feel any differently if it were Handsome Bastard texting me, just because he's novel. Probably not. He waited all day to reply to me yesterday, revealing then that he'd called in in order to recover from partying the night before. So here I'd been excusing him for blowing me off because I figured he wasn't in a position to refuse work when really he just wasn't making me a priority. So I don't know that I'd believe any offer I got from him enough to feel any joy of anticipation over it.