Is this “neutrality”?

We don’t always feel happy, or sad and sometimes not at all. A poem, prob without rhythm

So what is this feeling that doesn’t feel?
That makes too tired to bother about the next meal?
That makes me stare at something interesting and not care,
As if anything I liked suddenly lost its flair.

It isn’t negative, or positive, or neutral,
The pain it causes dull, numb, not brutal.
It’s like a void, but not necessarily cold,
More like my emotions and perception fold.

Like a paper, they crumble, and force themselves small,
It’s quiet, and empty when I ignore their call.
Sometimes I feel sick, sometimes it’s relieving,
So is this symptom a cause for cheer or grieving?

Because often it’s useful to shut it all down,
To carry not a smile, but neither a frown.
At the same time it pains me thrice as much,
When it’s impossible for me to break free from its clutch.

It’s okay when I choose to enter it myself,
In such cases it’s just another book on the shelf,
It bothers me more that I am required to do so,
That people I trust deliver me that blow.

And even now it feels as if this doesn’t describe it right,
It’s a weird feeling that can’t be placed in the correct light,
Even so, it seems to take away anything bright,
Like something that comes and says “/time set night”.