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I'm warm. Inside me the sun shines, even in the depths of winter. I'm happy, content with life. Yet something is missing from me. There is a hole that I can't fill. I have tried to fill it, with love, with sex, with material goods. Each of these makes me feel content again for a while, and I forget about the hole, but none of them ever fills it completely so that I never feel that something is missing again.
I'm outgoing, I'm friendly. People like me, I think. Even If I am often the butt of their jokes. But then someone says something, or does something. I have put up with it a million times before. I have my work hidden from me. I endure comments about my sexuality, about my private life. Personal insults. I laugh along with them all. But not this time. This time I can feel the Hole inside me consuming me. I feel anger. I hate my tormentors. I want to turn on them, to crush them, but I cannot. I am weak. I shpout at them, storm out, lock myself away and cry. i don't want to feel like this.
The Hole is a cold place. My nose and fingers feel like Ice. Cold shivers run over me. I sit in front of a heater but I can't get warm. I wrap myself in blankets but I can't get warm. I think I understand what this coldness is. Its loneliness. But its self induced loneliness, I want to cut myself off from the world. I want to stick to fingers up at my friends and my lover and say f**k you.
Tomorrow the Hole will receed again, and I will become me again. I'll laugh at my friends as the tease me in the good natured way that they always have, that I encourage. I will smile, I will love, I will be happy.
But the Hole hasn't gone. Its there dormant until next time. Maybe next time I will snap. Maybe I will lash out in a way I have never done before. Until I fill this hole inside me I will never be free. If I don't fill it, I am scared that it will consume me and I will be cold forever.
I'm outgoing, I'm friendly. People like me, I think. Even If I am often the butt of their jokes. But then someone says something, or does something. I have put up with it a million times before. I have my work hidden from me. I endure comments about my sexuality, about my private life. Personal insults. I laugh along with them all. But not this time. This time I can feel the Hole inside me consuming me. I feel anger. I hate my tormentors. I want to turn on them, to crush them, but I cannot. I am weak. I shpout at them, storm out, lock myself away and cry. i don't want to feel like this.
The Hole is a cold place. My nose and fingers feel like Ice. Cold shivers run over me. I sit in front of a heater but I can't get warm. I wrap myself in blankets but I can't get warm. I think I understand what this coldness is. Its loneliness. But its self induced loneliness, I want to cut myself off from the world. I want to stick to fingers up at my friends and my lover and say f**k you.
Tomorrow the Hole will receed again, and I will become me again. I'll laugh at my friends as the tease me in the good natured way that they always have, that I encourage. I will smile, I will love, I will be happy.
But the Hole hasn't gone. Its there dormant until next time. Maybe next time I will snap. Maybe I will lash out in a way I have never done before. Until I fill this hole inside me I will never be free. If I don't fill it, I am scared that it will consume me and I will be cold forever.
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Your life runs conversely to mine, for I am the hole. I feel empty as a vacuum, all day everyday. But every now and every then, something will happen that for a brief period of time sparks a light of happiness in my heart. But the moment is brief, fleeting, and again the hole consumes the fire in my heart, chokes my happiness, and drowns me in depravation.
...Thought-provoking. Nicely written too, and I kind of see what you're talking about.
Not much else to say, just thought I'd let you know that I read it. {:)
Not much else to say, just thought I'd let you know that I read it. {:)
I'm warm. Inside me the sun shines, even in the depths of winter. I'm happy, content with life. Yet something is missing from me. There is a hole that I can't fill. I have tried to fill it, with love, with sex, with material goods. Each of these makes me feel content again for a while, and I forget about the hole, but none of them ever fills it completely so that I never feel that something is missing again.
I'm outgoing, I'm friendly. People like me, I think. Even If I am often the butt of their jokes. But then someone says something, or does something. I have put up with it a million times before. I have my work hidden from me. I endure comments about my sexuality, about my private life. Personal insults. I laugh along with them all. But not this time. This time I can feel the Hole inside me consuming me. I feel anger. I hate my tormentors. I want to turn on them, to crush them, but I cannot. I am weak. I shpout at them, storm out, lock myself away and cry. i don't want to feel like this.
The Hole is a cold place. My nose and fingers feel like Ice. Cold shivers run over me. I sit in front of a heater but I can't get warm. I wrap myself in blankets but I can't get warm. I think I understand what this coldness is. Its loneliness. But its self induced loneliness, I want to cut myself off from the world. I want to stick to fingers up at my friends and my lover and say f**k you.
Tomorrow the Hole will receed again, and I will become me again. I'll laugh at my friends as the tease me in the good natured way that they always have, that I encourage. I will smile, I will love, I will be happy.
But the Hole hasn't gone. Its there dormant until next time. Maybe next time I will snap. Maybe I will lash out in a way I have never done before. Until I fill this hole inside me I will never be free. If I don't fill it, I am scared that it will consume me and I will be cold forever.
I'm outgoing, I'm friendly. People like me, I think. Even If I am often the butt of their jokes. But then someone says something, or does something. I have put up with it a million times before. I have my work hidden from me. I endure comments about my sexuality, about my private life. Personal insults. I laugh along with them all. But not this time. This time I can feel the Hole inside me consuming me. I feel anger. I hate my tormentors. I want to turn on them, to crush them, but I cannot. I am weak. I shpout at them, storm out, lock myself away and cry. i don't want to feel like this.
The Hole is a cold place. My nose and fingers feel like Ice. Cold shivers run over me. I sit in front of a heater but I can't get warm. I wrap myself in blankets but I can't get warm. I think I understand what this coldness is. Its loneliness. But its self induced loneliness, I want to cut myself off from the world. I want to stick to fingers up at my friends and my lover and say f**k you.
Tomorrow the Hole will receed again, and I will become me again. I'll laugh at my friends as the tease me in the good natured way that they always have, that I encourage. I will smile, I will love, I will be happy.
But the Hole hasn't gone. Its there dormant until next time. Maybe next time I will snap. Maybe I will lash out in a way I have never done before. Until I fill this hole inside me I will never be free. If I don't fill it, I am scared that it will consume me and I will be cold forever.
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