You ever just… dissociate? Like, truly just check the fuck out. You know that feeling when you're so utterly spent, so completely fried, that your brain just goes into a kind of low-power mode? That was me on the bus this afternoon. Commute home, standard crush, everyone packed in like sardines, and this dude... this absolute *specimen*… starts huffing and puffing about how slow we’re going, how crowded it is. And he’s not just complaining, he’s *performing*. Arms flailing, practically doing interpretive dance about the plight of the urban commuter. And he keeps bumping into me. Over and over. Not like accidental, polite bumps. These were aggressive, agitated shoves, each one accompanied by a guttural groan about the inefficiency of public transit. My shoulder, my hip, my bag. Bang. Bang. Bang. And I just… froze. Didn't move. Didn't say anything. Didn't even really *feel* anything. And that’s the part that’s really screwing with me. Because in my head, the *old* me, the *functional* me, would have snapped. Or at least given him the death glare. Made some passive-aggressive comment. But there I was, just… immobile. A statue of pure exhaustion. Like my internal alarm system, the one that’s usually blaring at all times – *did you remember the diapers, is Dad’s blood pressure stable, what about that email for work, oh god is the gas bill due* – it just… turned off. It was almost… peaceful? This complete lack of reaction. Like my CNS just said, "Nope. Not today. We are conserving energy for essential systems only. Fending off aggressive commuters is not mission-critical." And now, hours later, after I've put the kid down, sorted Dad's meds, finally sat down for five minutes, it’s hitting me. What the hell was that? Am I broken? Is this what burnout actually feels like? This profound, unsettling neutrality in the face of blatant disrespect. It’s like my empathy switch, the one that’s permanently stuck in the ‘on’ position for everyone else’s crisis, just… short-circuited. Part of me, a very small, very dark part, almost wants to go back to that state. Just for a bit. Before the guilt kicks in. Before the existential dread of realizing you might be losing your damn mind on a crowded bus because you’re so utterly drained from being everyone else’s everything. Fuck.