Utter emptiness. It’s a feeling everyone gets at some point in their life, I’m sure of it. A time where you stop to ask yourself if life is really something worth living. It isn’t depression, you still find joy in the things you love and the jokes you hear, but deep down a ball of ice forms inside of you. You grow distant from people, and when you review your live, you begin to question if you really need the people closest to you.
What are they to you? They, quite literally, are a few people out of billions. Billions who don’t care if you exist, billions who would find you death nothing more than a blade of grass; you might be an individual, but so is everyone else. They might be the blades a grass next to you, but that is quite literally nothing. One blade, surrounded by a few, doesn’t affect the rest of yard. You are the blade. Your friends and family surround you. They may have some disturbance if your prematurely plucked, but it is nothing to the yard. No one else cares.
Do they even listen? They never listen to you; never care for what you say. When you speak, they hush you. You’re too loud, too distracting. You don’t even get the slightest glance unless they want something from you. Even then they don’t want your being; they want you for selfish reasons. You’re nothing but a tool, a scythe to cut the wheat. They want the product so they can leave you all alone again.
When was the last time your family asked what you felt? They haven’t said anything of the sort in a while. All they do is make orders, telling you what to do. Personal needs mean nothing: you follow their orders like a dog, wanting your master to recognize your accomplishments, no matter how small they are. Of course, you aren’t as lucky as the dogs.
How does it hurt so much? The cold feeling inside of you grows. What you had grown so accustomed to in your life had turned into a giant wave striking the shore, and you – a tiny crab – were caught and dragged to sea. Your feelings drown you, choke you, and eventually you give up. No point in trying to save yourself when there is nothing to go back to.
Who are you really? Like a clam, people have scooped out your insides and left you as an empty shell. While they relish over all the work you do without a second glance, you stand and stare. You give everything you can to make them feel better, to know you think of them as a friend, and they don’t care. You achieve nothing, you loose everything. You start to question what is wrong with you.
Where can you find the answers? No where. You are a human being, a walking piece of meat with a conscious. All your actions are worthless; all your friends couldn’t care less, your family wants to control your life, and you are just a puppet, pulled along the strings between two separate groups of people. Stuck in the middle, you started to think for yourself, and discovered that you are nothing. The world doesn’t care for your opinions or questions.
Why does everything matter? The problem is nothing does. Life is pointless and lonely. There are no real friends, there are no family members that really care for your individuality, there are no values to you. You may be a unique individual, but so is everyone else. No one is special. If everyone was a different colored flower in a field, everyone would be so different it would be similar.
You are just like them. You use your friends the same way, but you don’t realize it. You will control you’re children, it just hasn’t happened yet. You don’t care about the other people you don’t know. They could be wanting to kill themselves or laughing and dancing and having fun. You never stopped to consider their feelings. Your just as evil as them, as heartless and cruel as everyone else on this god forsaken plaet.
Even so, you don’t understand this emptiness. It’s impossible to explain, a feeling you must truly experience yourself to understand. This whole attempt to understand is pointless, fruitless, a waste. Just like life. I can only leave you this, the best interpretation of my inner turmoil, as I sit behind a computer screen and cry.
Dustyfootwarrior (talk) 08:04, November 17, 2013 (UTC)
((This was written with no planning whatsoever. I just typed my feelings the best I could. I hope it wasn't too terrible.))