Last night I watched the stars fade back into space; I felt empty for the first time in awhile, similar pains coming back slowly. The wind came, but I was aware of it, as with the small sounds of humanity reminding me that I could never escape it's embrace. What was I so destined for? That's what I felt like asking every incarnation of human imagination: what was I destined for? Tragedy or greed? A story, or was I nothing but a brick of a building lost in a city, slowly crumbling away into the obscurity that we all begin from. I felt like the latter, to only know a piece of what could be, but quickly cast aside. I detached my emotions from it and just stared at the sky and the water.
The wind blew cold, but I was aware of it as it slowly took the heat from me, leaving me nothing left but thoughts trickling into my mind.
The exact detail of my emotional stability, or the state thereof, meant nothing; I knew that, I have always known that, a carefully guarded secret. The absurdity of my own meaninglessness made me want to sigh. I stared forward and tried to organize it, tried to justify, and then demolish my thoughts and opinions. I was sitting there doing nothing to anything. It made me shrink, and I felt nothing from myself. It made me shiver, but I continued down until my face stopped making any remarks on it. Eventually I was there to the point where I could comprehend how nothing mattered, and I stared back, forward, into space and the waters reflection of that.
The idea that I was a hangman's past, or that all I had leaving me, eventually felt like nothing, and I was numb. The wind was no longer there either, and eventually the sky and water left me, leaving me with endlessness: vastness. I sighed because I knew it was only a second, and in the sigh emotion breathed back into me.
I already had told you that I hated it, but complaining doesn't do anything more than show care in that case.
But I did feel broken, and without direction, because I had forgotten how to read a compass.
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