and all my heroes are gone. I’ve torn the posters from my wall. They’re lost to me. Much like my muse. When this happened, I’m not really sure. One day I just woke up and realized I didn’t have any heroes or passion for anything any more. Not like I used to.
nothing consumes me anymore. Not sadness, not hate, not anger, not love. There used to be this super-sensitive, passionate part of me. That part would be in control (or out of control, more like) almost constantly. Now? There’s just this numbness. Something smothering my spirit. I used to suffocate from desire, now my desire is the one suffocating.
there was a time I’d sit at the edge of my seat, giddy with anticipation waiting to hear or see something I was obsessed with for so long. My goddess was a musician. Her melodies and words touched me in the deepest part of my soul. With every breath I’d shiver and shine. Emotions poured out of my being with each syllable I heard. To see her in person or on screen was almost an orgasmic sensation. Her sadness was my sadness. Her angst mine. She filled me with hope and sadness simultaneously.
that passion has died within me. I can’t seem to get it back. It was the passion of youth I think. A youth that I didn’t like when I was a part of it. Sometimes I long for the stabbing pain of despair that incapacitated me so many times. I want to feel so desolate and pained that I can’t go on anymore. I want to feel the urgency of needing to swallow anything that would numb my body and soul.
i used to wake up wishing I never had. Now I wake up wishing that I didn’t want to. It’s funny what you take with you as you grow older and enter the real world. I miss the pain and angst of youth. There was rarely any happiness.. now I have what appears to be happiness and yet, I feel numb and empty and long for the pain. I miss the uncertainty.
now days go by so quickly I barely have time to register any emotions. My dreams have dissipated into smoky wisps that I can no longer grasp. I move though the motions and although I think I have found happiness I fear that it is only an illusion as I can feel nothing else. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I can’t remember the last time I felt pure excitement over…well, anything really.
there is this vast emptiness inside of me right now. A confusion. An uncertainty of how I truly feel. I lie awake most nights certain that there has to be something else out there. Something that I am missing. I never thought happiness would find me, but now that I have it, I wonder if there should be more. Should a blissfully happy life negate all the negative? Shouldn’t there be a wider range of emotions? Shouldn’t there be… more?
in my old room, in a time that seems worlds away, I’d get up in the middle of the night and stare out my window. I was always at peace in the winter. I loved the way the frost swirled across my window. How the tendrils of ice would sparkle and glitter in the sun or the moon. At night, I’d open the window and listen to the silence of the snow. Everything was calm and innocent in the light of the moon. Any sound was muffled and comforting. Despite the cold winds making people rush from one place to another, the winter always seemed to slow everything down. I could think. I could breathe.
and now, even with all this numbness and so-called happiness, I still want to walk out into the wintry night and dance in the snow.