Author: StarlessRaven PM
When you have nothing left to feel, when the only thing left is a void of emotion, what is there left to live for?Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Tragedy - Words: 429 - Reviews: 4 - Published: 05-01-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3018512
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is just a short little story that I wrote several months ago. It can be about a lot of things, I suppose, but I wrote it when I was pretty depressed all the time. It's kind of interesting to look back on stuff like that, and when I decided to re-read it, I ended up editing and re-publishing. So yeah, thanks in advance for reading it!
I know what I should be feeling, but I can't bring myself to feel it. I should be feeling the tenseness in the limbs that marks fear, the hot flush in the cheeks of embarrassment, and the pressure in the eyes of sadness. I should be feeling all of these things, my body alive with sensation.
Instead, no matter how hard I try, I feel nothing but an empty void swirling around my chest; sucking in light from all directions. I know that I should be terrified. After all, is emotion not the only thing that makes humans alive?
I check my pulse nervously, breathing a sigh of relief. I have a beating heart, and working lungs, so I must not be truly dead. But I can't be truly alive, either.
I snap my eyes open, and the world flies at me in a surge of color. I see the familiar green walls of my room, adorned by posters and drawings of things that I once cared about. I stare at them blankly, struggling to remember when these things mattered to me, when anything mattered to me. I scramble desperately for anything to hold onto, or for anything to keep me going for just another minute.
It will get better, I parrot to myself. This cheap little phrase has been forced into my head by everyone I know, but I can't bring myself to care. I enjoy feeling nothing. My weak mind can't handle suffering, so it shuts down, allowing me to escape into nothing.
It will get better, I think, once everything is gone. Living is such a tired existence. I stare at my shadow, wondering what it would be like to be an unfeeling, dark outline of a person. I am not jealous; that would take too much effort. I am simply curious, wondering how it would feel to be in my shadow's place.
I close my eyes one last time and fade into the darkness.
How was it? Please review, (after all, feedback is the best thing an author can get) and maybe check out my other stories if you're feeling up to it…?