Hollow stillness It's over, a lot of it is over for now. But that gives the opportunity for thought, gruelling, unbearable thought. Too much time to think. Time alone can be comforting. In fact, it always is. But when the stillness takes place, the mind starts to ramble. It goes on and on. As if the ideas raced for spotlight. Many thoughts, and a weakened body. A weakened body, and the mind starts to fantasize. It thinks of death, it thinks of harm, it thinks of anger. It gets to a point it can't stand the sigh of itself, disgusted by ones own inability to stop the ever sinking corpse. It can't even gasp for air, it's hollow, and now lies in stillness. It's hollow yet it can't float, such is the pressure of one's own sea. I'm exhausted, exhausted of being empty, being disgusting, being unsightly, being unimportant, being, being. It's so overwhelming. I want so much from life, yet I'm not willing to give. I want the peace of enjoyment. I want the good without the bad. I want the destination without the journey. It's so wrong. It's better to be dead. But dead is unsightly. The ultimate stillness, a dark empty nothing, unmoving, boring. What's better at the end? I'm so unwilling to do anything for myself, I let myself rot, I let myself get sick, I let myself go hungry, or devour like a pig. Yet I claim to not harm myself. I'm unwilling to ask for help, I don't want it, I'm scared of it. I'm disgusted by myself, and my unwillingness, but I can't move my body, I can't lift a finger, and so I continue to rot, and rot, even if I'm afraid, even if I'm crossing the line into the hollow stillness, I can't get myself to do anything about it. Yet the moment I feel better, I mock myself. "So you were just pretending?" "Is it attention you want?" "You didn't care from the start." Then it all comes crashing again. And again. And again. How deep is this ocean? I hope it crushes me already. Or not, I can't even decide at this point. So many people have it worse than I do. I can't even say I'm in a bad situation. But then why am I drowning? I don't get it, it's infuriating. I've given up without even starting, yet I feel so invigorated at the same time. I feel like I can do anything. I feel like I can't breathe. I feel ready to take a challenge. I can't feel my body. I love myself. I hate my body. I can't move my face. I can't feel my touch. I can't hear my voice. I can't . I cling to comfort, I've done so for my entire life. And so, the moment it's taken away from me, I crumble. Like rubble, scattered. I'm afraid, afraid of myself. Afraid of sabotaging myself. Afraid of being unable to succeed. Afraid of living. Please skip to the fun part.