Have you ever felt your heart has died before having a chance to be truly born, let alone live?
That for whatever reason there is simply nothing, there is no love…no pain. At least, not pain in a sense you can describe. It does not sting, there is no ache of knives or burn of fire.
There is simply…nothing, and that…that is worse.
That nothing drives into whatever cracked remnants of a soul you might have after your heart has died, and it spreads and you are only ever nothing. You might rage, you might cry, you might scream at against that night, that you are something, but you know better.
You are nothing, there is nothing to you, and everything else is just the last flailing nerves of a body long dead, broken beyond repair that simply…goes through the motions for fear that if you stop the oblivion that waits beyond that empty feeling will finally swallow whatever cracked pieces remain free of that awful emptiness.
Despite the motions, you never try, there is no passions beyond the pain. No joy and little sorrow, and those moments of sorrow, those moments of raw agony where your very soul hurts for the pain of grief.
Those become blessed moments, sacred in that agony, for without that pain you’d never truly feel anything at all because worse than pain is the apathy of a life un-lived, of a soul undone and a mind unmade.
Worse than pain and sorrow and agony, is never feeling. Never experiencing and rarely caring, and understanding that this, lack is a loss you cannot grieve. A wound you cannot heal, and a mask you can never remove for it becomes you in every way that has ever mattered and banishing it is likened to killing the last remnants of who you were before, if only because the lack has been all you’ve known for so long everything else seems like nothing more than a distant dream.
A story you told yourself to convince you that there was something before, that things did matter, before the hollow formed within your gut and color seemed to drain from your world as if it was water through a sieve.
So, have you ever felt as if you heart has died, and all that it has left you is nothing, no smiles, no tears, and only the false echo of anger in a vain and pointless attempt to simply not tread into that bottomless hole, and let yourself fade?
All of this before you ever knew what life was, what love was, how it felt to greet the dawn with another that makes you smile, that one person who can tell you, it’s all going to be okay and thought you know they lie that it won’t be okay.
Nothing will ever be okay again because it has never been okay to begin with, you let them say it and you smile and for that one moment, that one instant, everything will be okay, because this is life and they are there and you are alive and this is as close to good as its ever come to being and that, for this moment is okay.
Has your heart died before this moment could ever come to pass? Shriveled and wounded you give up any attempt to find this moment because you know not only is nothing ever going to okay, there is nothing good left within you that deserves this moment. Blighted by hollow shadows that fill you with every dark thought just to attempt to drive out the pointless static that scratches at your tattered soul every day, the idea that one could live with love while their heart was dead, their soul was broken and their mind so much empty static.
Even now that idea makes me chuckle, just a little bit, at the pure fancy and fantastical it attempts to put across.
Love doesn’t win, my heart does not beat, there is nothing to me now for I am nothing but empty.
Shriveled and dry, next to pointless there is no blood in my veins, no soul in my chest, just emptiness and dust in a vessel that doesn’t understand when to end.
I still don’t understand when to end, I fight oblivion with all I can because its all I can see, all I understand is that the ending will come and I will lose and the emptiness will be all that I am. No more stories, no more words.
Nothing but silence with not even the soft sobbing of my agony to break it.
And that terrifies more than any nightmare, any ending I can think of.