empty

I don’t feel too good today. It happens sometimes. Everybody feels down sometimes. At least that’s what people say all the time. I’m not too sure about that. I mean it can’t be normal to spend a day not being able to get up from the couch despite having things to do. I didn’t even have the energy to get dressed today. There is so much I want to do, so much I could do because I know I have the potential and yet I can’t find the energy to do anything. It’s a tragic thing being stuck between wanting to do great things but not being able to get up and make yourself something to eat. The tragic thing is that I am fully aware of my state which makes me wonder how much of it is self induced. Am I actually like this or have I somehow managed to deceive myself into being like this? Maybe I have a perverse love of being sad, I can’t deny that there is something undeniably romantic about tragedy.

I am not sure if I will ever be able to find out what I am actually feeling and what I have fabricated, I am not sure I want to. I am worried that there might not be anything but this terrible emptiness I have stashed away in some corner of my mind. But it is always there, I can feel it just at the bottom of my chest, that horrible apathy, that coldness. I can never allow it to take hold of me even if that means that I must put on layer and layer of pretence to bury it.

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