A Hollow Hole

There is a void in my life. It is an empty space, a dark black hole just waiting for to be filled. There is an urge to fill this gap. The need, the want to feel full again is so much that the more I wait the bigger and deeper the space gets. A feeling of hopelessness, helplessness, despair, desolation, despondency and anguish has dawned over me. Just to fill this up, I put a fake smile. But the truth is that I cannot fool myself even. Let alone me, my best friend cannot be duped. She can see what actually is behind the smile on the appearance. The smile, the grin, the smirk are some things I have permanently plastered on the face. Even at the most amusing situations, my lips do pull into a curve and appear to the spectators as though I am laughing. But in the inside it feels like as if an animal with bear claws is ready to come ripping out of me. The feeling is not pain, hurt, ache, soreness but the simple want to fill up myself. The body craves the incompleteness of the present, the void, the emptiness to be filled back up once more.

The stage that a cocoon goes through to finally turn in to a butterfly, its struggles to break out and take on its own is a perfect description of what I am going through. The hatching of a little bird from an egg and learning how to take the skies is another portrayal of my present living. Every living body goes through complications, struggles, difficulties, snags, obstacles and barriers. It is not only the human mind and heart that goes through the emotions and sentiments but every tiny breathing respiring organism experiences the sensation. But the only difference is that the human body is capable of giving vivid descriptive images of their emotions.

Just so I can distract myself and fill up the empty vessel of my life, I find myself doing very odd jobs. However even when I am trying to find a purpose to live again, sometimes somehow in between I end up breaking down. All of my past deeds and doings I recall and I cry thinking at the thought of how felicitous and how I used to be in high spirits all time round. A great amount of dejection is felt when I cannot answer the question,

“When will I go back to being my normal self?”

Looking at myself in this state, I pity myself. Although I absolutely hate being pitied at, every once in a while I wake up to giving myself an immense amount of sympathy.

But remembering myself these words by Charles Spurgeon makes me rethink over the past few hours on how I wasted my precious time,

“Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.”