Have you ever walked into a room with a strong scent, then waited a few minutes just to find out that you can't smell it as well anymore? It is called neural adaptation, and that's kind of how I feel about my sadness. (Which has been the dominant emotion in my life for around 2 decades) I've been depressed for so long that the lake has run dry and now a drought has taken root. I'm as hollow as the crater where a lake once stood.
Indifference tinged with a speck of despair is all that seems to be left. There's no value or meaning, no sunshine or rain, beauty has been rendered dull, and sadness rendered pointless. I live in a world where paintings have their coulors sapped from them and tragedies illicit no emotional response.
There's just a phrase that is suspended in the chasm that is my head. It's all #######4.