I’m not depressed.

But I’m very detached.

Life does not exist outside of driving to work, staying in my cubicle, driving home, eating, sleeping, repeating.

My partner has been doing the shopping. I’m overwhelmed in public spaces. I want to be invisible. My throat closes at the thought of interacting.

My colleagues invite me to lunch, or to go for a walk, but I decline. This little quiet corner of the office is just fine with me.

This is a part of the cycle I know well.

Before long, I’ll be desperate to get out of the house, break the routine, present as a more outgoing introvert.

But not today.