Have you ever imagined that one day the voices inside your head were fighting, your imaginary friend was running with a scissor in its hand, and at one point one of your personalities wandered off for the reason that somehow you had just proposed to...
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Emptiness.
If I could spell out in a word of three-syllable of what I was from beginning to end of this situation all at once, the adjective that would be adequate was in-depth above. Being as how I felt so much—I started to feel nothing, I withered like a sprig when the entirety of my feelings fell upon hollowness. It was even dumb to weigh how the nonexistence of something was the most unmanageable to bear. I was just empty—so fucking empty. How could a person bursting with life and then be void? Where does it all go? It was the nethermost life-undoing deadness that I have ever felt. It was there each day whenever I opened my eyes, numbing further what had been dead along with the growing life I carried then—along with the deep wounds that wouldn't heal. There's no way to tell how pain became my untold companion, how my heart blackened by a nonstop havocking curse that clouded even my gentlest will. There was a berth in my soul that would remain unendingly empty, a detail of me, of who I was, of who I could be—YET AGAIN.
