I can feel it come over me, like a mask, over the space of a few hours. My face hardens and becomes like an outer shell; it's me by default but feels completely disconnected from me. All 42 of my facial muscles settle into a stoic expression that I force into more socially acceptable expressions with great difficulty (and varying degrees of success.) It feels like only my eyes move, and even then it's not without considerable effort and concentration.
If I manage to prevent myself from falling deeper into the black hole of depression, then I usually end up with raging discontent and irritability coupled with highly negative self-talk.
I usually don't write things like this until I have some positive spin to wrap up with, but this time the positive spin hasn't arrived before my desire to write.
I think I'll go play the piano.