I can never fill this emptiness inside of me. I will never be fully full. Full of life. Happiness. Anger. Feelings. Nothing. I am half full. I am half empty. Fullness will never find its path to me. Filling me up with something. I am empty. I am a void. I am not myself. I am no one. I cannot think. I cannot talk. I never speak. I observe. Observing everything. Forgetting nothing. Only forgetting my past self, the mirror breaking into millions of little pieces, shattered. Broken. I am everything. I am empty.
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Finally Broken
Short StoryThe noises used to make me feel happy. Happiness is nostalgic to me, and now the noises sound like screams, bombs being set off right next to me. Cries of pain, sobbing. Then, silence. The silence hurts the most, and then I feel numb. I feel no pain...
