How do you start to describe emptiness? Do you paint a picture of blackness filling the paper as it consumes yourself in the same way? Do you explain how you feel like a hard shell that’s hallowing inside? Or do you just do the normal thing and say nothing. These feelings aren’t normal for a 29-year-old woman with everything she could desire; a man, her family, money, a roof over her head and clothes on her back. Expensive clothes too. But there is something missing, there is something different. Nobody understands. Nobody gets it. I’m the only one in the world feeling the way I do and everyday it gets worse. I’ve never felt so alone in my whole life. I can be in a room full of people and feel deeply isolated. I’m sad.
Phillies is as isolated as my mind lately. He’s brought the price down to 5 cents and it’s still the same people sitting here for hours at night. Spending 3 years coming here night after night has made me go numb. It’s as though I repeat the same day every morning I awake, doing the same mind-numbingly boring chores and pretend to care about my friend’s problems until my husband comes home and takes me out for a “romantic” date. Phillies. I may sound un-grateful but I feel as though time isn’t on my side, it repeats itself to make me miserable. I love my husband dearly but if I told him how I felt he would think badly of me. I’d be a complete disappointment. So, I’m sitting at this bar trying my hardest to act interested at the start of the night, join in with the mediocre conversation about the weather and how the economy is falling. By the end of the night I’m stuck staring at my hands and pretending I was somewhere else, sometimes even death sounds better than the babbling noises that are filling my empty head and the feeling of being an outsider. I hear the clock ticking and I can see it in the corner of my eye, but it seems to be stuck in the same position every time I look at it. I just spend time waiting for my husband to pronounce how late it’s getting and that we best be getting home, I would jump with joy if I wasn’t so sure it would only happen again the next night.
As my friends leave the house my husband walks in. I get up to get ready but end up being told to sit down. “We need to talk” my husband says without looking me in the eye, as though he’s hiding something from me but cannot bear to keep it in anymore. I feel my body fill with fear as it stiffens and tenses. “Darling I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately. You’re always so miserable and it’s difficult to enjoy your company.” I stay silent. “I know I haven’t done anything to upset you and there is nobody else that could affect your mood so, you need to lighten up.” “What!” I exclaim with great anger. “You think I want to feel like this? Do you think I like waking up every day saddened by the fact I actually awoke? Do you think I enjoy doing the same boring thing every day? Do you think I haven’t tried to just be happy, to forget about how miserable and sad I feel and just get on life as though nothing is wrong? You don’t understand how I’m feeling; nobody does because even I don’t. How do you go sleep one night normal and happy then wake up the next morning hit by sadness for no reason at all? It just crept up on me you know, I didn’t even see it coming. I don’t know the cause and I don’t know the cure and if you’re not going to stick by me through these feelings then obviously you’re not the man I married.” He stares at me, stunned. I walk out the house and take a long walk, so long that I end up lost, in what may seem to be a waste land. It’s broad daylight but nobody is around, no houses, no shops, nothing. Now I really am where I belong, this is my mind on a map. Emptiness. I break down crying on the floor, I just don’t understand anything and how it ended up like this.
After a few hours I wake up, from a half sleep half-awake like state, to the sound of my own voice. I had been singing to myself. This is it, I’ve cracked and I have gone completely insane. I just lay there because I’m exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. I’m not sure what to do or where to go, now that I’ve realised I’m crazy who is going to want me around? I’m stick thin because I’ve had no appetite for months, my face is pale and it has misery written all over it. I have no appealing characteristics; I am an incredibly un-attractive human being that’s awfully monotonous. I disgust myself and I disappoint everyone around me. Everything I touch I destroy, including people. I can’t do anything right, I’m a monster and I’m a disgrace to the human race.
I gradually drag my limp body off the floor and I make my way to the nearest bridge, cliff or anything that will be quick. That’s it, I’ve had enough. I’m done, emotionally and psychically. How can I live on when it pains me to smile? What kind of human doesn’t know how happiness feels? I can’t go on when my life is going nowhere and I know nothing is going to change. There’s a never ending misery rotting my soul and everyday it sheds sadness that absorbs into my bones. They crack, peel off and seep through my skin, fabricating an odour into the air that only I can smell. It’s a dark and dusty smell that strikes fear throughout my body whenever it lingers in the air…It’s in the air now and I’m shaking, and the air I’m breathing in is running thin as I find it hard to grasp a piece. Beating out of my chest, my heart is a mental patient suffering from an anxiety attack and the drugs just aren’t working. Nothing is going to work. Nothing is going to stop the beautiful tragedy that is about to happen on this busted bridge.
Blowing through my hair, the wind is making me cold but I do not shiver. I take a deep breathe of the bitter air and exhale a sigh of relief. The weight on my shoulder has been lifted, as though my body knows what amazing thing is following shortly. Quickly, I glance down at the pavement where my body will soon lay and a sudden rush bolts through my body. One foot is hovering in the air in front of me and I can smell roses, I’m not certain where the scent is coming from but it brings a tear to my eye as the scent gets stronger. When I bring myself back to reality and step forward a bit more, my ears pick up a faded sound of Glenn Miller-In The Mood. My mind starts to wander and I picture myself and my husband dancing in a dance hall all night long to Glenn Miller, I’m swinging, smiling and nothing can bring me down. In this daydream my husband is holding me at the waist and I can feel the warmth of his rough man hands, I trace my finger along his lips while he’s telling me he loves me…they’re cold. Suddenly a big gust of wind awakens me from the fairy tale and my breathing starts getting heavier until I realise where I am again. Saddened by the fact it was all fake only gives me more of a reason to jump off of this bridge, I place my foot over again, hovering in the air. I close my eyes and my mouth fills with saliva and before I know it, it tastes as though I’m drinking tea. My, I love tea, especially when it’s sweet, the way it trickles down my throat and dances on my taste buds. It’s going cold and bitter, my taste buds recoil in horror and my throat closes up making me choke. I open my eyes and decide that enough is enough and I walk forward until my feet run out of ground. Blackness is all I see because I’ve chosen to keep my eyes closed; I find it will be easier that way. The pain is over. The sadness is over. Everything is over.
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