cold light through the curtains

let me feel something

And sometimes it's too hard to find the words to describe the unbearable emptiness in my chest. I'm staring at the ceiling waiting for my brain to finally allow me to feel something. Even the slightest amount of something.

I'm waiting.

I've been waiting my whole life.

All I've gotten were sparks of hope immediately stained with despair, wondering why I believed in it in the first place. And my mom used to say "you overthink everything too much, things are easier than you think". I don't think I am. If things were easy, I would feel them. But the void is so dense that it's hard to distinguish anything. I'm thinking, because if I can't feel, maybe I can imagine.

What does happiness look like?
What does love feel like?
What does joy sounds like?

I haven't had any real laugh in ten years. I haven't had any real spark of excitement in twelve years. I haven't had any happy memory in fourteen years.

Emptiness.

At thirteen years old, I thought all of this would go away. I thought it was a teenage struggle. I thought I would be okay when I grow older.
Sixteen. It's not over.
Eighteen. It's worse.
Twenty. I can't sleep at all anymore.
It won't magically disappear when I turn twenty-one.

Let me feel something.

I want to feel the wind on my face and the heat of the sun, I want to hear the birds and the cracks when I step on the snow, I want to smile and laugh without the darkness in the back of my mind, I want to be honest, I want to feel genuinely.

I don't want to pretend.

I don't want to keep being a dull adult wearing a colorful mask every single day. I don't want to keep on lying. I never wanted to be an actor, never wanted my life to be a tragical, never ending, badly written play. Never wanted to laugh nervously, never wanted to smile compulsively to hide the nothingness.

Let me feel something for real this time.