Nothing touches me now. If I died tomorrow I wouldn’t fear or care. For we all know that death is all-encompassing and no memory exists thereafter. But it’s not only this, but also my life. I can’t get excited about anything now. I do get numb and more defeated. And I cry easy. Easier than earlier. And I am more on the verge all the time, on the verge of rage, extreme emotion, sainthood. And I exist only in this un-feeling superior detached self which can see all and teach all but feel nothing. Its cynicism of course, but it’s even beyond that. I have never lived life, life has lived me and where before there was some direction, some guidance, some will, some philosophies, now there is a null. And incompetence makes me cringe and cringe and cringe. And I see as if from very far and I expect nothing and get nothing and if I died tomorrow I wouldn’t fear or care. Nothing touches me now.