Sometimes, he catches my eye and I'm taken back to a different time. There's so many pictures on my wall, and he is not in one of them. I look at myself in the pictures, and I can see the difference. It's not just from him; it's life in general. What happened to everyone? It seems so different than it once was. Can't quite put my finger on it, but something has changed.
Maybe it's just me.
I can see the difference. My eyes are hollow. There once was a fire that burned deep within me, but nothing gets me anymore. I don't feel anything, but I've accepted it. The crying has stopped, for the most part. The past is bubbling, threatening to overflow like a pot of boiling water. The eruption is coming; when and where I cannot say. In drunken stupors I lash out and lose myself, but what good does that do? Morning comes and I can still feel the emptiness. Alcohol is just the temporary, numbing solution.
Music. Each song drives a stake of depression deeper and deeper into my gut until I'm doubled over with dry heaves. I'm not hungry. I don't sleep. This is worse than before; where did I lose myself? Can anyone see the loss of will I have now? Try to be strong. Don't go over the edge. I can handle this.
Lies. I wait for the day to end, floating through every class and meeting and encounter a ghost. When I crawl into bed, I cannot recall the last meal I ate, who I've seen, or what I've done. Everything is meaningless and useless.
Bland. Mundane. Nonexistent.
I used to be so terrified of not existing. I welcome it. Numb me. Give me anesthesia and put me to sleep so I can rest my throbbing head and aching body. Constantly tired, I'm in a haze. Foggy.
I just want to forget.