I can't pretend
I feel so. . .empty. Deadened. Weakened.My thoughts keep straying to "Why bother?" I feel flat. I asked for the truth and it came out, but now I'm left with shadows and unanswered questions. All I'm left with now is "What now?"
So what do I do? I can't go back. I can't pretend. The truth is the truth and I will never say anything else. But how can I go on in a gray, hollow world? I need relief. Any kind of relief. I search around and don't find any, no matter where I go. Still, I can't pretend.
I feel so. . .betrayed. All that was is lost. The only thing I had left in the world was ripped out, leaving nothing but a bloody wound. It's like someone tore my heart out while I was still awake.
Now what? I'm not sad. That's not my feeling. Just. . .empty. Unexcited. I can't leave my thoughts and opinions out of the situation, I'll lose myself if I do and I vowed never to let that happen. I need to know my own head.
JK Rowling talks about dementors in her Harry Potter books. Hollow, horrible hooded creatures that lurk in the darkest and foulest of places, feeding off the good of human emotion. Leaving the person feeling dead, expressionless, in a deep depression. Like they'll never be cheerful again. Little did she know that dementors actually exist.
They're not just make believe. They're just called by different names here in the real world. They're called loved ones.
That's all I have to say for now.
So what do I do? I can't go back. I can't pretend. The truth is the truth and I will never say anything else. But how can I go on in a gray, hollow world? I need relief. Any kind of relief. I search around and don't find any, no matter where I go. Still, I can't pretend.
I feel so. . .betrayed. All that was is lost. The only thing I had left in the world was ripped out, leaving nothing but a bloody wound. It's like someone tore my heart out while I was still awake.
Now what? I'm not sad. That's not my feeling. Just. . .empty. Unexcited. I can't leave my thoughts and opinions out of the situation, I'll lose myself if I do and I vowed never to let that happen. I need to know my own head.
JK Rowling talks about dementors in her Harry Potter books. Hollow, horrible hooded creatures that lurk in the darkest and foulest of places, feeding off the good of human emotion. Leaving the person feeling dead, expressionless, in a deep depression. Like they'll never be cheerful again. Little did she know that dementors actually exist.
They're not just make believe. They're just called by different names here in the real world. They're called loved ones.
That's all I have to say for now.