In the Dark

I want a sensory deprivation tank. At least then, I'd have an excuse for why I'm sleeping 18 hours a day, for 5 days at a time. Ridiculous, I know. The official diagnosis is depression (that's all they ever say). I suppose that makes sense, I'm certainly behaving like I'm depressed. I'm not interested in anything. Not sex, not food, not shopping, not even the newest episode of Glee (that's when I knew it was really bad). And then, of course, there's the sleeping. The thing that makes me reject the depression diagnosis (besides pride) is that I'm not actually feeling anything. I'm not sad, I can't even remember the last time I cried (can I even still do that?). Mostly I just feel...empty. Depression requires sadness, doesn't it?
Every time I'm bored, hungry, stressed or someone wants me to make a decision (any decision) I go to bed. I read for an hour. Then I fall asleep until something absolutely compells me to get up. Sometimes I can trick myself by making an appointment or lunch date with someone (yesterday my siblings did an excelleng job of making me get up), but most days, there's just not really a good enough reason for me to drag myself out of bed. Even if I do get up for a few hours, it's not terribly long before I'm back to sleep, or even just lying in bed, thinking about nothing.
 During The Sleep, I never get up to use the bathroom. I never feel over-slept. I never get that achey, been in bed too long feeling. Sometimes I wake up, but it's never even a question of whether I'll go back to sleep or get up. I just roll over, rearrange the pillows and doze off again. I'm completely not bothered by the fact that I'm wasting 3/4 of my weekend. And that is upsetting.