Fated #2

I’m better off without you.

You’re better off without me.

How come it’s still 

you that I’m returning to

all these years?

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Untitled… I guess.

Lately, I’ve been feeling slightly different.

I’ve been drained empty, like there’s nothing left in me. Little things still make me happy, like good movies and upbeat songs and painting with watercolor. But I simply don’t find the same joy in doing what I like anymore. Everything feels temporary, nothing ever lasted long enough to truly mean something.

I can’t write anymore. Last year I read all sorts of things; The Silmarillion, the Lord of the Rings, all sorts of fanfictions. I started writing then, because I wished to create a story of my own after reading so many good ones; but it doesn’t feel right now. I have trouble finding the right words when it never mattered to me before, I find it difficult to really convey what I was trying to get across, even when it comes to what I feel.

Every night, I feel like a lost little girl, not knowing where I’m headed and what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to find a purpose. I’m supposed to find a goal, a direction I’m heading to. Maybe I used to have it. Maybe I used to know what I want in life. But all I know is that I don’t anymore.

But what’s worse is that I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the fact that I think there is still at least one thing that I can trust my happiness with, one thing that still makes me feel… well, alive.

But after what happened, I know better not to depend on a person to be happy. Especially one that couldn’t care less whether I’m still alive or not.

Hollow

After a while of spending most of your days wishing to die,

sometimes you’d feel something;

be it an overwhelming sadness,

or joy, or anger, or fear. Those days

are the ones propelling you forward,

but most of the time

when the engine has slowed down to a halt,

you’d feel nothing. 

Wounds

You left me,

tattered, battered and beaten;

pieces of me were scattered, gathered

all around my feet.

I didn’t know how to piece myself together.

Your shadow ahead of me grew smaller,

all I knew was to chase what was left 

of you, 

until all my lights have gone down.

I was bound, the pieces on the ground

were forgotten, I bled, not knowing

how to rebuild myself once more,

not with the chains that bound me

to what used to be;

even though I’ve sung to me

the same words, over and over again,

“What once was will never be;

no more, no more, no more.”