On emptiness

Why has it been impossible to breathe lately? Why do I stop just before I inhale? Why does oxygen feel so damn toxic? I don’t need my lungs anymore. Nor my heart. My mind has become the only source of my existence. It breathes, thinks, decides, destroys and builds empires, without my consent. I have become a slave, a mere subject in its kingdom. My body is simply its physical extension. It too has been transformed into a vessel of overthinking and under-doing.

Imagine being locked inside a car whose control you lost when you made it independent; when you dared to share too much. Imagine it hasn’t stopped driving for years. Imagine that every turn it takes is new on a road it has built itself. Imagine you are unaware of the destination but recognise the way. Imagine you know everything except where you are going. The windows are open despite the cold. The music is either too loud or too absent. The silence is deafening…as are the clichés I keep using.

The colour keeps changing so I cannot be found. Then again, no one’s looking for me. I have said goodbyes in silence and I’ve heard replies coming back to me in the absence of action or words.

It is strange to stand alone by choice. It’s confinement in freedom. It’s a savage hold on emptiness.

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