Nothing unusual. Nothing strange.
The nights are getting colder. The frigid air creeps through the cracks in my apartment, the place that I call home lately. I wonder how I got so lonely in such a crowded city. There's noise in the kitchen - some mundane dialogue that is forced and lacking substance. There are grammatical errors that I should probably ignore but they irritate me. I light a candle, sip red wine, and try to relax. I drink the wine in half-glass increments so as to maintain an illusion that I am consuming a reasonable amount. I will finish the bottle in under one hour. I will take slow and deliberate steps down the hallway. I will avoid eye contact with those conversing in the kitchen. I will brush my teeth listlessly, wash my face, and massage my temples. I will hope to lighten my heavy head and ease the tightened muscles within it. I will fail. I will crawl slowly into bed, demonstrating the dexterity of a man twice my age. I will silently pray for better luck, but display no noteable signs of confidence that these pleas will be overheard. I will fall asleep to sounds of the television and muffled voices from the kitchen. The blue light from the screen will cause the room to glow slightly. I will dream of mundane tasks and unremarkable events. I will feel little or no emotion.
I am numb.
I am numb.