And after you,
and after the experience of needing you, I resolved that I needed nothing.
The feeling of emptiness came soon after that, I even liked it.
I trapped myself in this state of nothingness, my emptiness. I didn't need and I didn't care.
My basement room became a prisoner cell, up in a high tower. Fit for a princess.
I filled it with beautiful things, and activities. To be barely touched in favor of staring out the window, longingly, Beautifully.
I cried daily.
I painted my nails, I did my makeup, I got dressed up and took slightly provocative pictures of myself, to post on my story, so some guy might DM me, and I could roll my eyes.
I put on moisturizer every, single, night.
But not before I picked at every pore, every dry patch, the pace of my body's functioning was not enough for me. I need too much.
I need to need less.
The world outside my window boomed and, suddenly, withdrew. I didn't care, honestly. It was just a test for me. How little could I need? What does company give you? I need nothing.
I dove in. I lived without needing food, my bones stuck out. I didn't like it. I couldn't recognize myself. I didn't want to look in the mirror because I feared, and I knew, She would look right back at me.
I imagined myself with a thick metal chain clamped around my neck, the other end affixed to the wall. She was always crying.
I started smoking more; A middle finger to the world outside me, caring so much, needing so much, being so afraid. I didn't think less of them, I pitied them, and wore a mask for them.
Honestly, i just liked smoke. Alcohol swished around inside me and spotlighted my emptiness. Nothing is here! My internal organs begged.
Oh, I could fill myself with it! with all its fantastical fragrant air. I wondered, if I could take a deep enough breath, Would I float away?
I waged how light I was by the feeling in my heart, I was concerned. Somedays, I would never stop crying.
I tried to comfort myself. I held myself, and kissed myself. I told myself that I loved me, and that, that was enough, even though I knew, it was a lie.
I downloaded a meditation app. I tried it once, and didn't touch it for a week, a month, Ever again.
I journaled. Every day, Twice a day.
I laid out in the sun and tried to cure my heart with its raw energy. One time, it was powerful enough to make me vomit. But it could never reach my wounds.
I sat in the sun less, drank water more.
And I cried, I wept, and sobbed. Tears invading my body, weighty, and dripping. Filling me, taunting my very notion of emptiness, evoking the faintest intuition that I was actually, and no matter what, filled to the brim with the human inside of me.
Even if I didn't like it.