You don’t feel broken.
You just don’t feel much at all.
There’s no collapse, no dramatic spiral—just an odd flatness. You smile when needed, reply when required, show up on time. But everything inside feels like it’s happening behind glass.
1. It doesn’t hurt—it just doesn’t land.
Joy feels muted. Excitement feels distant.
Even sadness struggles to move through you.
This isn’t peace. It’s shutdown.
A quiet kind of emotional frostbite that creeps in slowly when you’ve been carrying too much for too long.
2. You weren’t born numb—you adapted.
Somewhere along the way, your brain decided it was safer to feel less.
Too many disappointments. Too much overstimulation.
So it stopped ringing the alarms. It just… dimmed the volume.
3. The world keeps asking you to react.
But likes don’t light you up.
News doesn’t shake you.
Even the things you used to love feel like someone else’s memories.
And all you can think is: “I should care more. Why don’t I?”
4. Numbness is protection—but it has a cost.
You avoid the lows—but also miss the real highs.
You move through days like a well-rehearsed performance.
And while no one notices, you do.
You remember what it was like to feel.
5. This isn’t who you are—it’s where you are.
You’re not cold. You’re not ungrateful.
You’re just tired of being overwhelmed.
And your body chose stillness the only way it knew how.
I used to think I was losing myself.
Turns out, I was just paused—waiting for safety.
Have you felt this too?
If you’re here, you’re not broken. You’re just beginning to thaw.
The Unspoken Mind 