It was night, a cold, chilly, and stormy night. I was silently typing away my emotions, emptying everything I felt into the bin of words.
Logically, that would mean I was describing an emotion, and indeed I was, the emotion of lacking one: Apathy.
I figured I was starting to miss my old self, obviously, that may signify an avid hunger for the feeling of joy and ecstasy I used to derive from simple things during my early childhood,
but I mainly mean I miss my rather more recent self.
I miss being depressed, I miss crying every night, I miss feeling my skin disintegrate, the taste of garnet red iron on my tongue,
miserable tears running down my cheek as I despondently smile with red eyes while staring into the mirror, I miss flowing like a river, from my arms, my chest, my nose, my mouth,
salivating and lachrymating as I fall down to the ground, pulling my knees to my chin. I miss it all.
At least then, I had a certain cathartic outlet for whatever I felt. And at least then, I felt. As of now I don't have any emotional getaway from the world, because I am feeling nothing.
I want to go back to the moments during which I looked into the mirror and synchronized with the image it provided, I want to feel real again, I want to exist, properly and subjectively exist.
I am exhausted of walking by any reflective surface and seeing a polar opposite of me in it, an angsty teenager with dyed hair and light acne; wearing dark,
loose and oversized pyjamas; his arms flaccid, legs nonchalant, hair disorganized, face apathetic; piercing into my psyche with his dead, dark gaze, as if we were having a staring competition.
We both look into one another, mimicking one another, telepathically communicating our thoughts thoroughly throughout a virtual canal tying out souls together,
our hearts beating fast as our thoughts connect in harmony.
As they start to amalgamate, our cardiac rate starts to slow, dyspnea develops as our breathing comes to a stop, our surroundings darken, pupils dilate, eyes blacken, cyanosis emerges,
our hearts stop, a moment of dreadful silence, and we fall into each other.