Nothing

Music Request

Let the rain never stop...

I think it hurts because I care. If I did not care, I would be indifferent, and the indifference means that it wouldn't hurt. Still, I care less now than compared with previously. I know this. It hurts, in a numbing way, but I know it will all be better soon. Soon, I won't feel anything anymore. I'm not sure if its good. As of now, it seems terrible, but I think I might actually enjoy the emotional vacation from the hurt. You see, I'm tired of being hurt. Tired of the feeling of betrayal. I care, which is why I feel so awful all, you can't feel the pain when you are dead. Similarly, when you are an emotional void, I think the pain goes away too. I say this to myself, over and over again. It will all be over sooninside. Once its all gone, I won't be able to judge anymore, but at least, the pain will go away. After is for another person, another time.

It spreads. Like some disease, some corruption. It starts with the limbs. Whatever happens, my body still functions. Then it spreads to the face. Whatever happens, I'll keep smiling. Next is the attitude. Whatever happens, I'll behave exactly the same way I was before I was hurt. I'm at this stage now. Terminal, I think. For I have the nagging suspicion that soon, nothing will really reach me again. A coping mechanism. Like cataracts and bunions. The outsides thicken, congeals, grows over whatever is damaged. Consumes the original to leave behind a malformed entity. A human freak. But what does it matter? Soon, I won't feel anything.

You mean a lot to me. Still do. Will, until the day I'm gone. That is why every word you say cuts me, wounds me and rips me to shreds. I lived for you. Your praise was like water, and your attention like sunlight. My existence centred around you. It was an unconscious thing. I was happy. Now... Things can never be the same again. Your smile still means a lot, but not as much as it once did. I like the attention you give me, but I can survive on far less of it. Soon, I think I'll be able to do without you. You see, instead of putting all my eggs in one basket, I spread it out over a few. Also, I realised I just could not put eggs in baskets and not expect them to break. So I boiled them. Hard-boiled eggs in baskets are not fragile. Not anymore.

Its raining now. Washing the world. Cleaning the dust. Flooding the drains, sewers and canals. All that water, all to the sea, to our pipes. Endless loop. I'm breaking out. To be melodramatic, I'm cutting out my heart and burning it. Then I am going to compress it under high pressure. Drain the moisture. What is left?... Like it matters.

"No one will die because I died. No one will cry because of me. I do not matter. My existence is just a particle in the chaotic swamp of eternity and infinity.This I know."