I Write Poetry
So, What’s it Like to Feel Dead Inside?
It’s hard to say what it’s like to feel dead inside. To me, it’s sort of like someone removed the contents of my chest and left a gaping void where there is nothing left but a painful, sucking black hole. It feels like all the places that are supposed to do something – my heart and my soul – have been removed. And this removal has left open, bleeding gashes. Wounds that tear and itch and bleed. And just knowing that my heart and soul have been removed is breathtakingly painful. Feeling their absence is like feeling the absence of oxygen from the lungs. It puts one into a panicked and near-death state.
And the thing about having your insides removed is that you really do feel the necrosis setting in in the surrounding tissue. It feels like you’re a rotting corpse. It feels like you’re the walking dead. It feels like your humanity was removed along with your insides.
Feeling Nothing with Depression Then put me in front of a glorious scene. Put me in front of a glorious sunset. Set me in front of young love. Position me to gaze upon kittens playing. And all the sucking nothingness ensures an absolute lack of feeling. Kittens playing make me feel the same as staring at a wall of grey.
And experiencing this, knowing how much I’m missing, knowing what I should feel about kittens, knowing what I should feel about a sunset, knowing what I should feel about young love, almost makes me stop breathing altogether.
You’d Think Feeling Nothing Wouldn’t Kill You – You’d Be Wrong
Because somehow in all this nothingness, there exists pain. I can’t explain why pain exists when nothing else does; I only know that is the case. I only know that feeling a gaping void inside my chest is one of the most painful states of being that I know. And I know that escaping that feeling and the associated pain is bloody high on my to-do list.
Of course escape also means many things to many people, and it’s understandable when escape means death, means suicide – if you think there is no other means available.
It’s hard to say what it’s like to feel dead inside. To me, it’s sort of like someone removed the contents of my chest and left a gaping void where there is nothing left but a painful, sucking black hole. It feels like all the places that are supposed to do something – my heart and my soul – have been removed. And this removal has left open, bleeding gashes. Wounds that tear and itch and bleed. And just knowing that my heart and soul have been removed is breathtakingly painful. Feeling their absence is like feeling the absence of oxygen from the lungs. It puts one into a panicked and near-death state.
And the thing about having your insides removed is that you really do feel the necrosis setting in in the surrounding tissue. It feels like you’re a rotting corpse. It feels like you’re the walking dead. It feels like your humanity was removed along with your insides.
Feeling Nothing with Depression Then put me in front of a glorious scene. Put me in front of a glorious sunset. Set me in front of young love. Position me to gaze upon kittens playing. And all the sucking nothingness ensures an absolute lack of feeling. Kittens playing make me feel the same as staring at a wall of grey.
And experiencing this, knowing how much I’m missing, knowing what I should feel about kittens, knowing what I should feel about a sunset, knowing what I should feel about young love, almost makes me stop breathing altogether.
You’d Think Feeling Nothing Wouldn’t Kill You – You’d Be Wrong
Because somehow in all this nothingness, there exists pain. I can’t explain why pain exists when nothing else does; I only know that is the case. I only know that feeling a gaping void inside my chest is one of the most painful states of being that I know. And I know that escaping that feeling and the associated pain is bloody high on my to-do list.
Of course escape also means many things to many people, and it’s understandable when escape means death, means suicide – if you think there is no other means available.
