Apathy

The people I consider friends seem to ramble on and on, their words clearly lost on me. I only meet their rants with the occasional nod or "mhm."

I only then realized that loneliness doesn't come from being alone, it seems inate.

No matter the people I find, nor what they say, it never seems to resonate.

The choir seems to sing, but I seem blind. No matter the perfection of each tone, the harmony built upon each perfect note, it all is drowned out by the aching sound of apathy.

I question if I should even sing, my voice lost in the sea of others. Maybe, I should re-tune.

The sense undescribable, akin to a flat shade of paint on a wall, or a dull afternoon with a droning headache.

My eye bags seem the greatest indicator, nights left sleepless, dreaming of a life long wanted. The way I dress, a dull boring style, someone who already seems to have given up.

Apathy plauges me, as the predator it's prey. Waiting, stalking, until all seems right to infilct it's disease of depression and morrow.

I wonder, what divine intervention has cursed me so?

Yet, another day passes, apathy.