To Feel Nothing

“To feel nothing, so as not to feel anything – what a waste!”

It’s 3 am.
Drowsy. Tired.
The storm that snatched away,
All the treasures, concealed.
Treasures of a ramshackle soul,
An excruciated heart,
And, a distressed mind.

Starting to give up on each and every thought, every second hope, and every spark that said to set fire to this soul’s misery, was one of the reasons why I am crestfallen. The mightiest of storms, uproots the deepest principles, lines of faith, and dormant seeds of hope. Moreover, the brazen you flees to one of the remote islands of the East, leaving behind an unknown entity with an empty body, who doesn’t know whether to dance or to cry in this rain, and sits back staring into this void, created by the malevolence of this world and the shrewd people, who continue to inhabit the unearthly earth. It is painful to continue to think about the only one, who could read you, like you are a child’s playbook, comprehend each and every part of your soul and why it is ruined, and love you, when the deepest of your thoughts and mysteries you could tell no one, could be related to that one person in a nanosecond, without any feel of shame or abashment.

But, you regret.
Regret every moment of sheer glee, pristine love and unending empathy. You are replete of misery for narrating every story to him, who would listen and not judge you. You are remorseful for all the times you felt bliss in every corner of your invaded castle, when he was present, beside you, because you can never get hold of such a simple feeling again.
You regret his presence,
The reminiscence,
Yourself,
Because, one day, like those sailors of the gargantuan ships, he would be gone for another voyage. And, you will never hear from him, again. Maybe, there would be a call or two, however, you can never know him again, the way you knew him, because then, someone else would have the pleasure to do the same.

I commenced feeling fragile,
Like all the leaves have been detached from my branches.
I felt naked, like the sky after a stormy night,
Clear and nothing to hide.
Without him, the stirred energy that was running this machine, providing it its fuel, was gone.
It was exhausted.
The bird without its wings,
The tree without its roots,
The man without his soul,
I was lost.
I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find another you.
And, this dilapidated house, that could be home, was once again, void.
Empty.
Without you.

“Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot.”

 

Have a great life.
Love,
Touchwords

*Feel free to give your views*

PS. Have you ever felt that way? Lighten me with some of your stories.

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