In a Graveyard

Do you know that circumstance where you have been expecting something for months because you have been confronted because it is an inevitability of life and the circle (or straight line (depending on your belief)) that it represents and even though you know the outcome because there is only one outcome that can be - you still do not know how to handle it?

I mean, despite all my experience, made up experience, rehearsing and practicing with the seclusion within my mind, I scroll through my Rolodex of emotions and reactions... and I have nothing. I know how I am supposed to feel by proxy of having experienced it in the presence of others, but I have nothing for it.

It is not that I have no idea how to feel, because I know how I am supposed to feel, it is just that I do not know how to present it in an outward manner. Is this good? Bad? Should I be proud that I am seemingly devoid of emotion? Should I be scared that I am building all of this up for one day when I just completely break down because I cannot handle it anymore? Should I be worried that maybe... maybe I really am a terrible person?

I thought about this on the car ride there, silently, with my Dad. Since we do not talk I just stared out the window thinking of this, because I thought I knew that I would show something.
I wanted to show something. Anything...
But finally faced with the inevitability I had absolutely nothing. Not even a word. Nothing. I had nothing to say. Nothing to show. Nothing came out. Nothing.

I saw tears, but I did not feel any.

On the car ride home, it was silent again.
All I could think about was this inner plague. Why I had nothing?
I had nothing to say. But then I seldom have anything to say to him.
I think the bridge was burnt beyond repair. He tried too hard.
I hate it when people try. They should just be normal.

I hate this detachment.
I hate myself for this. For not feeling anything.
It is not that I do not want to, I know I want to.
Maybe I am just scared of everything coming out and having no one there to help me.
I mean, I have all but one option as an outlet... a paper pad.
I hate that I have nothing significant.

I hate that I am going to bed without an answer.
I'm selfish... I hate this.