It’s been a while now since I’ve been empty.
Empty, is a funny word. It sounds hilarious and spells devastatingly funny. I wish this pun could make me feel something; anything. But it doesn’t.
This is how emptiness shapes. You see so many things that could brighten you up, but none worthy enough to fill yourself with.
The mornings feel so valueless, that even the warm sunlight can’t fill your hollow. You imagine a huge, hot Sun, burning brilliantly and lining the sky blue. You watch beautiful butterflies lingering around colorful flowers. It’s suntime, it’s job-time; they roam around collecting nectar, flower to flower, and reflect rainbows through their wings. You see colors everywhere — bright and dull, dark and light, happy and sad. You find everything serene and flawless, but you fail to voice such words. You want to, but your neurons deceive you. They ignore all the external stimuli, they do not send your brain, the signals. They prevent you from responding at all. You want to appreciate Sun, and colors, and insects, and trees, and flowers, but your neurons think otherwise.
This is what emptiness feels like.