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Melancholy minus its charm

"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." - Laurell K. Hamilton

I waste at least an hour everyday lying in bed. Then I waste time pacing. I waste time thinking. I waste time being quiet and not saying anything because I'm afraid I'll shatter. It feels like nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Something's drowning me. It's like waking up into a nightmare. I feel lost, so broken inside. I'm struggling to stay alive.

It is that absence of being able to envisage that you will ever be happy again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling. But when I feel it deeply, I don't want to let it go. It becomes a comfort. I guess it's not all that bad. So it seems.

There just isn't a single strong emotion inside me. I see the world in black and white instead of the vibrant colours and shades I knew existed. I'd lost my place in the universe. And I wonder if it's worth it to fight for as long as I live.