I’m feeling a bit lost.

I seem to retreat further and further into myself as the days pass. I have nothing to say to anyone. I feel alone. Removed. I go through the motions of life, but am I really here anymore? It’s like I’m haunting myself.

It makes sense to me, at least.

My ex was bothering me about some mundane shit earlier, and I wanted to respond with, “Well I don’t care because I’ll probably be dead soon anyway.” I didn’t, of course. I don’t feel comfortable spreading my sadness around. I just drop it here instead.

It’s funny, because, even now, I don’t feel unhappy necessarily. I’m looking forward to spending the evening with my husband. I’m looking forward to digging into the new book I just started. I’m looking forward to lots of things. But it’s all laced with melancholy.

The peritoneal mets leave this strange feeling in my core. Kind of queasy, but also empty feeling. It matches my mood.

I’m still alive. Say it on repeat. Feel it.

Mean it.

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One thought on “Empty

  1. so relatable. i had days like this when everything is right but something just inside is aching for darkness. i said “had”… because when i got to the root of it i now have no lack but that’s the negative energy trying to pull you back in to a place where you weren’t you. you keep pushing through it and your writing is just the place to leave it. it’s beautiful. ❤️ love and light 💡 xoxo

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