ce·ment

Journal

Yet another night, staring into my own eyes, unrecognizable against the dark backdrop. They are filled with some substance? Something terrifying, absent.

A black matter, invisible yet completely present. Intangible.

Glazed over, they go on and on forever sinking deeper and deeper within me, and nothing.

There is nothing.

Emptiness. Dank, cold, something that would send chills of terror down the spine of any.

It’s the fear we all have, complete and utter loneliness. To be truly alone.

To have lost yourself.

To have realized the lies you have told yourself about one day waking up and suddenly feeling belonging. To suddenly feel satisfied.

It will never happen.

Everyday will be like this: the monotony. The plain. The early mornings. The bills. The endless work and school. I will never be free.

I can never live.

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