It’s like a void of pure black.
Drifting in and out of sanity and despair, with nothing to grasp onto.
Nothing to hold.
And everything crumples all at once into that long familiar void.
I know it all to well, this aching pain in my chest won’t leave me be.
I’m growing frustrated with every step, I’m snappier than I used to be.
All of this, it’s stupid, but better than nothing.
Tapping along, I slowly start by venting. Emotions crying out to be heard.
I have no idea what I’m doing, where this will go, or what it will be.
But nevertheless I type, the droll tune of tapping is the only thing that permeates the silence.
I’m lost, confused, and afraid.
This is all so new that I...I don’t know what to do.
The pain won’t leave my chest, the void won’t leave my mind, and I am left with this.
This pitiable effect of a broken, beaten, and worn down event.
The growing void and I move in tune, the longer this goes, the larger it gets.
Till all that’s left is garbled syllables on a single page, a hodgepodge of notes that try to speak what I want so badly to say.
The way it starts is horrid and I despise the tone it creates.
Again and again I change it, and it always starts the same.
Then suddenly a light breaks through, just a crack of the sun slipping through the void.
I know what to do, or at least attempt to with the void still clinging to my back.
How it starts is simply this:
“It’s like a void of pure black.”