Sometimes I wish I had the power to change everything.

Every morning when I wake up it takes a whole lot to get going. Everything I use to wake up for is gone.

Every ounce of push is gone and I’m stuck dragging my feet, holding on to any piece of anything that could make me happy. It’s like searching for change when you’re pretty sure you don’t have any.

I can’t say I’m a ghost walking in shoes but sometimes it feels that way. Like when the wind blows, it goes right through me being there’s not much there to be a barrier.

This empty feeling is such a scab. I pick at it to make it go away but I bleed. I try to cover it up but it’s still visible as an abnormality to my skin. It’s hard to express how this makes me feel.

Not disappointed. Not sad. Not angry or restless or anxious or depressive. It’s a feeling of being stuck underneath something. Something that sheilds your sight from what’s in front of you. Just seeing the same things in an infinite pattern. Those things not being worth much to look at.

I can press my hand to my chest and feel a beating heart but when I try to connect that heart to a superior brain, it’s a blown fuse. Nothing to cry about, just something to keep me idle without fire.

I can’t give much of myself to anyone else because, well frankly, no one wants something empty. If you buy a glass, you fill it up with something. Something to quench your thirst with. If you buy a blank card, you fill it up with meaning before handing it off. As for myself…eh, nothing quenching, nothing to write. Just a bare canvas without acrylic to paint it.

I don’t know what got me here. It seems like I just blinked one day and all the meaning in my life vanished and I’ve been sitting here hoping it jumps out from behind the door and yells, “surprise!” I won’t get up and look for it. No. Not this time. Why you ask? It never stays and I’m sick of chasing.

Forget the ones who have made imprints on my soul without a single hope of even sticking around. Forget the ones who just don’t care enough to be there how I need them. Forget the things that brought me comfort but changed at the drop of a dime. Forget the hopes that I could have something here yet nothing has pointed to it being so. Forget the efforts to make my life here because they’re what stripped me.

I love to sleep because when I sleep, I dream, and when I dream, I’m where I belong. It’s raising my eyelids to the place that I do not.

That’s empty.