Emptiness - Blog Posts
Why can't I remember? Names, faces, people, events. They're gone. There's a feeling left. Like a hole where an uprooted tree stood. Pieces of pictures are all that's left. No emotion attached to them. Did they really happen? Were they all just dreams? Is this all just a nightmare I can't wake from?
Closed hand
the purpleish black
made by you
makes it seem
it never came through
the feeling
releasing every day
will it ever
go away?
what is it about,
do you want to feel it too?
or am i the only one,
who loves to feel blue?
- beatriz a.
An interesting, random parralel coming to my mind...
/ A key, not a piano-key!! /
"In this world, some people born are like keys that move the world and exist having no connection to the social hierarchy established by man."
-Griffith (Berserker)
Where does this emptiness come from? What can I do to make myself feel better? How long will the darkness last? The difficult thing about depression is that there is often no satisfactory answer. At least not fast. But how do I encounter something that has no reference? No beginning, no end?
The Great Void
A shadow lay over my life. The laughing, the happiness became less. The sadness grew. At first I was astounded. The change came creeping and yet unstoppable. I felt a void in which everything seemed to drown. A black hole in which my zest for life sank. I lead a rich life. Rich in meaning, rich in hobbies, rich in people, rich in tasks, rich in wealth. Yet this great void in me. Is that possible? Is that allowed? Am I not grateful enough? What have I done wrong?
From death, life.
They stand before her, and they brandish their weapons callously, carelessly. She knows they mean to kill her – she’s of no use to them. “Don’t run and we’ll make it quick, little girl,” one of them says. “You can join your family.” She knows that he is lying. The world is open before her, and she knows all that may be known.
She can see the silence behind them, the darkness. Death. The void awaits.
The men smirk. They are empty of life and humanity, worn to blood, bone, and sharpened teeth by violence. They expect her to beg. They do not know.
She stands before them, small. Her spine is straight, and her head is high. She meets his eyes.
“No,” she says, and her voice is strong and clear. It is still a girl-child’s voice, but there is something more behind it.
He is taken aback, but something nasty quickly enters his eyes. “More fun for us then,” he tells the others.
“No,” she says again.
“I am not afraid to die.” She tells them, and there is a universe under her skin. She feels her life like a star in her chest, and death like tides in her blood.
They roar with laughter and start forward. They step with heavy feet on soil rich with death. They do not know.
The darkness is behind them, within them, between every atom in the air and in the earth. It is within her. The silence.
“I am not afraid to die,” she repeats, “but today is not my day to die. It is yours.”
The raucous laughter enters the air again, but she can see something like fear rising in the eyes of the wiser ones.
The time for words is over. The silence is here.
She closes her eyes - and breathes. Life is here, she thinks. Death is here, she thinks. Truth rings strong in the silence.
The darkness rises in her like the tides. The empty space between the stars is here, between the pieces of the universe. Void calls to void. The hungry dark will devour all. The shadows grow, and –
She opens her eyes, but there is nothing to see. The dark presses like a living thing against her skin, but she is not afraid. She is part of it, and it a part of her. There is no sound, because the dark and silence swallow all. But she can feel them. She can sense their light growing dim. Their fear grows, as the darkness within answers to the call of the darkness without.
She holds both death and life, light and dark, silence and sound, void and star – in her hands and in her heart. Her light does not fade as the darkness grows. There is no fear in her. She has already passed through the void and emerged.
The lights in the darkness are gone. The sense of nothing presses against her skin. She waits. She knows it is not yet done.
She waits, and the dark waits also, hungry. It is restless and chaotic, and it would consume her given the chance. She remembers the star in her chest. And waits.
And in the consuming darkness, the void of chaos and nothingness, something starts to grow. She smiles in the blackness, and breathes in, bringing air into her lungs where there was none. The light in her chest flares. Her star fills her whole self. The shadows recede. She blinks in the sunlight. There are no men in front of her. There are no more bodies in the streets. There is only rich black soil.
She steps forward and kneels, brushing the dirt away from a bright green seedling. Life.
I woke up to the sound of his heartbeats.
It's a slow rhythm, one that comforts me in this darkness.
With only the light of the fake phosphor stars,
I can see his pale, beautiful face.
He's asleep, but very much alive.
At least for now.
At least for a few hours,
I'll still be able to embrace the warmth that's him.
Until the fuel runs out and we are doomed forever,
I can hug him and listen to his soft breaths.
There's a strange beauty to our current situation.
We're literally lost among the stars.
Held by the other, breathing the same air,
we float amidst the lights in the vast empty darkness,
miles away from the place we once called home.
Because now, nothing else exists to me except him.
Now, all that's real are his arms around my body.
Entwined together, our fingers are the last remnants of life.
And as I drift away into sleep once more,
I press my lips to his shoulder.
A final goodbye,
and then we're gone,
together.
Two hearts lost in space, and in each other,
till the end of time, perhaps.
Maybe all that we want is already taken— no matter how much we cry, yearn, lament, we never seem to get what we seek.
They wanted me to become a man who fights for his respect. But I became a man who respects himself. And that’s how I became awkward— and I loved
that
kind of awkwardness.
Maybe all that we want is already taken— no matter how much we cry, yearn, lament, we never seem to get what we seek.
ooh God, good Lord
the pain then, the seasons of lamentations, that seemed to never have an end. the tragic distances of people from me. Was it all to mean that You alone was worthy of my trust ?
ooh God, good Lord
it was it was it was .
Now,with this modest relief and fleeting felicity ooh God it was you that deserved my trust all along.
All the romance. All the dreams. All the love. we thought to give but never did, at some point fades away and we are left to settle with anything that works. In the end its only what we never wanted to become, to have, to reflect that we cheer with.
I want to discover freedom rename the emptiness inside of my mind I start to understand that nobody ever said emptiness had to be filled to enjoy, to feel, to be it`s only an assumption a comforting picture the feeling of feeling fulfilled. we are used to fix and fill and fit get uncomfortable around unknown, around space because we desire comfort which isn’t freedom in the first place so at the end of the day how can we feel free when we try to fill ourselves only to avoid the void inside of us Isn't it the empty blue sky which let the sun enlight the day? Isn't it the open dark sky which let the moon guard the night? why don't we use the free space and instead of calling it emptiness let’s call it freedom instead of calling it loneliness let’s call it independence instead of searching let's call it finding