months blur together, days crawling lethargically across one another in an endless miserable stretch. My mind is drained of reason and my conscience decides to look the other way while i trudge dutifully through life, pushing aside anyone who ever implied they might care.
why
i really couldn't say
Some people have defining moments in their lives, a tragic accident or a horrific break up that left them distraught, ripping their hearts out and shredding their insides.
i don't have any excuse.
It's like i woke up one morning and i had disappeared, a cloaked figure robbing me of my happiness.
Shedding all emotion leaves you empty, starved of feeling. It's nice, you know. When someone rises up to hurt you and you stand there blankly as they rain insult upon insult on your cold, hardened skin. It's nice not to hurt, to be able to look the other way as the people around you suffer.
Eventually though, the world we build for ourselves starts to crumble. Walls we built from the ground slip through our fingers and we sit helplessly in confusion and misery as our defense mechanism slows to a halt.
It's almost amusing how much it confuses us.
how can we be hurting?
we never let anyone in, we never opened up. Our lives were foolproof.
spirits laugh as we flounder pathetically in our own misery.
The deepest wounds we get aren't the ones from other people hurting us. They are the wounds we give ourselves when we hurt other people.
Being empty doesn't mean that if you're held underwater you won't drown.
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