Empty Room

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My eyes open and stare at the ceiling. The news of the death of someone dear to me resonates in my mind. However, I have not shed one tear. Is this what it truly means to be numb? I can't even cry from death?

The words bounce around my head as I slip my feet out of the covers and onto the floor. I walk across the room to get to the bathroom but stop halfway and turn towards the wall full of posters. Nothing.

No joy.

No sadness.

No happiness.

No pain.

Nothing.

I go back to heading to the bathroom, which as I wash my hands, I look in the mirror. How could you not cry? The thought escapes as I lock eyes with my reflection.

Next thing I know, I'm back in my bedroom and taking down all the posters. Old, new, nothing is left. I look at my pictures and go for the ones that are nearby. They don't give me happiness anymore, so why should they remain?

Nothing brings me happiness.

The sadness I craved still doesn't appear as I stand in my now empty room.

My dear, you deserved better.







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