I feel compelled to write. I’m up at 4 am. But I don’t know what to say. I’m empty.
It’s not that beautiful Buddhist emptiness, it’s just a complete lack of hope.
I want to find something funny to say, something clever or enlightening. I have nothing…
Where does inspiration come from? Where does Hope get generated? Whatever part of the mind or body that might be, mine is clearly broken. Or absent. Down the proverbial drain. I wonder where it goes.
Since I was a child I had a recurring sensation of just wanting to disappear. It feels like my wish is finally coming to fruition. I’ve gotten so small, so empty that I think I might just evaporate.
I’m not sure if I should bother to continue writing this blog. It is just a documentation of all my sad little dreams being crushed, a diary of my pathetic failures. Sometimes writing will unfurl something in me, give me something to hold onto, or a window to find a different perspective. Unfortunately when I need that the most there’s nothing. A void.
I should seek solace in this emptiness. Maybe it’ll transform into some state of understanding. Maybe I should finally just give up hoping to have anything, give up desiring anything at all. That’s what Buddhism says the solution is. Maybe they’re right. Because most of my desires have only caused me pain. Disappointment.
Opening yourself up isn’t easy. How many times can I handle doing it only to be seen and discarded? I don’t think I can do it again.
I’m not going to write about being heartbroken anymore because it’s just really boring. If it had a catchy beat maybe it’d be a hit.
If I find something actually interesting to write about then I’ll be back. But for now I’m gonna disappear. I’m already gone.