Adieux à l'Univers : À la dérive

Wooden body

There is something wrong with me.

I don't feel anything.

My wooden body does not feel anything.

My flooded brain does not work properly either; it must have overflowed.

Some days I feel like everything around me is dull, meaningless. The world could burn down before my eyes, I would not even bother. 

Some days I feel like everything on earth hurts me, as if I could feel the pain of everyone else down here, but not my own pain, not my own sadness.

I rely on others' feelings. I feed on them.

The only spark of emotion in my life comes from people's happiness or sorrow.

And everything affects me so much and so little at the same time.

Seeing someone in pain or going through something difficult will immediately make me emotional or revolted or compassionate.

But being in a painful situation myself will not make me feel anything. I will not cry nor ask for help. I will just wait till it's over.

Maybe because I deeply believe I am worthless, I'm a lost cause not deserving of empathy.

Maybe because I am not really a person, I'm just a body, a corpse silently wandering around.

I do not have any desires and almost no needs. I am invisible, apart from the others. 

I am a piece of wood, hardly floating on the stream of life.

Unable to get out of it, unable to control it.

Slowly drifting away from reality.

Getting closer and closer to the rapids of despair which will, in a single flow, irreversibly break me into a thousand pieces.

I am already suffocating, decaying, all cracked and eaten by worms, trying my best to keep my head above water.

How could I survive another wave of violence and desperation ?

I am an insignificant branch, made to grow, carry birds and leaves until I break and fall.

I've carried too many birds, too many leaves, they've damaged my bark, broken me before my time.

Life is neither bright nor beautiful, it is dark and ugly, painful and synonymous with death, it is an endless succession of misfortunes each more destructive than the other.

There is no hope, no joy, no love. This world is full of emptiness ; we humans, are nothing but shells trying to fill ourselves with feelings but never actually managing to do so.

I'm broken.

And broken branches have no use in this world.

I'm alone, I'm all alone.

And I'm about to be swallowed by the waters of suffering. 

I'm returning to dust.