When the lights go down,
it is only you and you —
it is not the red on your lips
or the swirls on your hair
or the praises they throw at you
or that shiny plaque called a ‘medal’.
I hope you like you. — lostrhyme
written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure
I kiss you
— Tyler Knott Gregson, Salt
on your lips
I taste the
has always been
I found my ‘tragedy’ in my first year of high school. I had friends, but I was sad all the time. I really was. Many times I had cried for reasons I myself couldn’t explain. I felt empty. I was depressed, to say the least. My ‘depression’ was only self-diagnosed, however. I never told anyone about it. It may be dismissed by some as a teenage phase. But it wasn’t a phase. Because a sadness like that follows you around and it never goes away for a long, long time.
The emptiness, I think, started from when I was still little. I didn’t know what it was exactly. It sprung (and sometimes springs) into my mind at the most random of times. Like I would be vacationing with my family and suddenly this inexplicable feeling would wash over me, nihilistic thoughts seeping into my head. It is a feeling I do not want to feel ever again; a feeling that all this is for nothing, that life is nothing but a genetic accident without a purpose.