Somewhere along the way I lost that thing that I said I would never lose. It disappeared from sight and mind never to return, without my even knowing, but beyond that, I forgot too what it was, a greater sin I think, than loosing it. They knew that it would disappear but I doubted and forgot and their prophecy came to realization. But for what I lost, I gained nothing, nothing to fill the void left by that hazy untouchable thing. It left me cold and alone grasping in the endless dark that became a part of me, for something, nothing, anything to not feel empty anymore.
Does that thing that I want, that I need, even exist? Or is my fate to sit alone in nothingness while others watch me smile and tell me how nice I am? They never see it, the dark loneliness that hasn’t always been there. The darkness that came only with the light, as if to balance it and keep me always grey. I hide it, not on purpose, but naturally, as if it were my nature to do so. And they never see it, as much probably, because they do not want to see it, as that they cannot. I tell them that I am a monster, inhuman and sick, and they laugh and tell me that I am silly.
So I search for things to live for, things to make life interesting and fun, so that I want to live. When in reality I neither want to live, nor to die, which is itself a sort of emptiness. I feel nothing but for fleeting joy and endless nostalgia. I bring joy to those around me, or so I hope, but what is there in that, they feel nothing for me in the way I would wish they feel, and in the end what true importance do I have in their lives, in any lives? And what of the future? I have no hope for anything that may come, because in my heart I feel the emptiness will never go away. I wish I could resign myself to live, or even to die, but there is only emptiness, fleeting dreams, and perfect smiles.