11:11

I feel sad. I feel cold. As if something just ruptured my heart to endless pieces with a stick, I feel empty. Like a bare bottle lying around, like a crumpled sheet of paper, like a worn-out shoe and like the crusty leaf someone just stepped on. It's agonizing, you see, to be this fragile, to be this broken and to be this futile in the grand scheme of things. How could you do this? As the visuals of the car rushing into my bare skin haunts me every single day as I stand uptight, as the shower curtains slowly trap me in their whiteness to make me feel smothered, I don’t know how long someone can hold onto this numbness. But sometimes, yes sometimes, I do feel you, your warmth, the way you could always find happiness in life, and how I am no way between them and am far away hoping to be asleep. Please, let me sleep. I don’t want to do this anymore. There is no more hope left in me now, beloved, no more. 

Don't lie to me anymore. Make this over. I’ll never be me again. Please, shut this off. Painlessly, though, I am weak and a coward. 

I think of countless things, I smile a thousand smiles, and in every word I say, there is a feeling too deep for me to comprehend. I tell myself that I am going numb, but in reality, I am feeling something multidimensional—something I can never comprehend because sadness, to me, doesn’t come as an emotion, but as an entity. It comes to me as a space I enter, it’s like I open a door to it, and it is there, welcoming me, caressing me, telling me it is there for me. I am walking over this space-time fabric of it, and I stay there. This higher-dimension rubric of my life which I am a part of but something so absurd I can never get quite right is my curse, because I can never leave it. It’s already a part of me, letting that go would mean letting me go. So, in all the talks, as my heart feels empty, I am trying to convince myself that this emptiness might be what I am. 

As I go through shops and look at people, I see emotions in them—sad, happy, angry—human emotions. As people speak and walk, their moments define them, and I see life in them. They want happiness, love, money, a purpose. I want lunacy—it feels like I am already halfway there.  
 

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