There was a time in my life when I felt alive. Things had meaning; I was indescribably happy, or perhaps just sad. Things were going spectacularly. The world was mine. But now... now all I feel is the desperate call of survival.
There are people who say I've become a zombie. That all I do is go through the motions of each day, seeking out only what will keep me barely alive and functioning. Maybe they're right, and I should just eat their brains. Then they will stop reminding me of what I don't have anymore.
Life was so much better before all this. Sure, it's kind of nice to not worry about my future, or about the next bill I have to pay, or about having my heart broken. But... there was something more to life than that.
The other day we were driving together. Remember that emotion? I can barely recall... I think it was love. It's hard to think that I could have felt anything, now that I can't feel a thing. And who can feel anything but disgust for someone like me?
I have become a useless limb, lying lifelessly next to a very much alive body. The body can feel nothing but contempt and hatred for that limb, which cripples it and makes it foul.
I should have seen this coming. There were so many signs. Just last week it culminated in my gut, and I exploded. The horrible sensation of nothingness was beginning to take over. My jaw became slack; no emotion except hunger would ever be seen on my face again.
Maybe there is hope for me yet. I don't just feel the hunger of survival-- I also feel the pain of solitude. I feel the yawning gaps in my life where I once was happy, sad, in love. Maybe there is hope for me...
No. Who will love me? I have no feelings. You have moved on already, pushed away by nothing else but me. I used to think that you were the only one for me. I see now that I was wrong.
Life was so much better. But now I am a zombie, and there is nothing more for me.*
With no emotion,
*Blog post inspired by my friends' writing assignment: to write something based on a song.