An Illusion of Emptiness

For days, months and I'm beginning to suspect years, I sense a growing realisation, a realisation that tells me that I have been living a strange empty life. For a thousand times, I mused and wondered how I passed my time. Where have my time gone? What have I been doing? Have I only been drifting? What were my obsessions? What is my greatest passion? And a million other questions of these sort filled my mind.

A feeling of dread spreads through me like a disease.

A feeling of hopelessness that cripples.

A resulting feeling of emptiness.

What have I lived for so far?

When people were hanging out with friends, trying out roles for productions, making home-made movies for youtube, playing soccer with friends, going for chalets, watching TV, out partying in town, what have I been doing?

Am I the perfect embodiment of passivity? Or am I too passive for my liking that it scares me when I know what my passivity does to me? I'm beginning to grow more aware of every door I close with every no I say to myself mentally. It is crippling me.

I feel a self-inflicted wound, blossoming a blood stain across my linen of life.

Is the blood flow stoppable?

What am I to do now?

What can I do about these feelings?

Shall I go out and see the world?

Should I?

Should I jump across that giant crevice?

Should I put fire to my tongue?

Should I live the life I've never lived?

I don't know how, but I would try.