She told me to go to work and stop playing with my phone. Don’t send her messages anymore. She has no feelings for me anymore. Her heart is broken! How should I reply appropriately?

I don’t know whether it’s because I’m depressed or something, but I’ve become very numb inside. The story creation that I’ve loved for nine years now feels dull even when I pick up the pen. At first I thought it was because I was depressed for a few days a month and then cheered up after a few days, but no, the situation was worse than I imagined.

In the company, I often go out to eat with colleagues and friends during lunch break. In this team, I used to be the one who talked the most, always walking in front, turning around and saying some naughty things from time to time, making everyone laugh.

But since work didn’t go well, I suddenly felt that I was far away from them. Walking together at noon, they talked and laughed happily, but I couldn't arouse any interest, and my heart seemed to be covered with a layer of dust.

I lost all expectations for life, and my work was also affected, because the job of screenwriter requires a feeling of "aliveness".

Try to read some "touching" stories and watch some "touching" animations or movies. Whether it is text or pictures, they all feel mechanical to me. The words and images just piled together and I couldn't see the point.

In the comment section of the touching work, everyone expressed their thoughts. Some said they cried while watching it, and some started talking about their own screams.

When I looked at these comments, I found that I couldn't understand them. I couldn't understand why they said "I cried" and why they suddenly started talking about themselves.

I turned my head and saw the mirror, and found myself in the mirror with pursed lips and empty eyes.

That’s when I realized that I couldn’t be “moved” anymore.

Because I can’t understand what “moving” is.

This situation lasted for nearly a week, and I had the idea of ????resigning and going home, but that would be very embarrassing, really.

I don’t want to rely on my parents, this is my pride.

Later I asked my friend for help. I don’t know if that was considered asking for help or asking for help, but it seems to me now that it was the latter.

My friend said that she also feels this way, and the symptoms are stranger than mine (I won’t go into details, it’s not good to be discovered, lol).

Later that night, my friend took me to play games with a group of people - colleagues who didn’t usually communicate with each other. I had won several MVPs or ACEs, and they would occasionally say, "Wow, this operation is so powerful!" "Okay you!".

I don’t know why, but my heart suddenly palpitated, as if some of the "dust" covering my heart had been bounced away.

Just some very simple words, but they moved me very much and made me feel alive.

The next day I felt better and no longer seemed disconnected from the world.

During lunch, I will also become interested in the topics of my colleagues and try to participate in them (even though they are all funny jokes).

I no longer think hard about "what's the meaning of these dirty words", but pay attention to the emotional fluctuations caused by "saying dirty words".

It’s like eating a piece of cake. The cake will always be eaten, so what’s the point of eating this piece of cake?

Of course, because it tastes sweet when you eat it.

It has been nine years since I wrote stories. I went from being ignorant and knowing how to write anecdotes to now being proficient in theoretical frameworks and starting to "create" stories. There are fewer and fewer words that can move me. The characters in the story are becoming more and more instrumental and meaningful.

I haven’t cried in a long time.

The last time I was moved was when I was tossing the mosquito net and saw the white hair on my father’s head.

It's a good thing to be easily moved, so that you can feel that you are still alive.