I do not think I am suffering from the common ailment many here speak of. My affliction (if it could be called so) is a complete cessation of movement as if a beast once given to stirring and howling all through the night has fallen silent, and left in its absence a feeling of trepidation. Undeniably parts of my humanity finds this silence disconcerting, but I do not mourn for or want in the absence of feeling. This predicament gives the world a stark clarity of which I could not describe, and the quieter it gets inside, the closer one comes to viewing the outside in its purest form, undiluted by passion, a detachment even from one's self, a true outsider, looking on as a passive observer, cherishing nothing. Even with this in mind, I fear the void, that a time may come when nothing animates me, and I am a shell of a man. A shell is most open to madness and madness is the only thing I know that I am earnestly afraid of.
Arcadeus Arcadeus
18-21, M
1 Response Aug 23, 2014

The eloquence by which you describe this is beautiful. Without emotion to paint our eyes, the world does become clearer in the absence of said passion. People have long been ingrained to fear apathy and solace. It feels for them to be a denigration of who they are, like the way organisms decay and look horrible.
I think you shouldn't fear madness. You are logically minded and make such great observances. Maybe your issue would be a reclusive isolation, which cannot work in this world deeply connected.