I feel as if I’m devoid of emotions. Everything is going at its pace but I’m at a halt; my being is at a pause. It’s almost as if I’m seeing people passing me by and I’m an unmoving spectator; I shouldn’t be an audience of my life, but I somewhat am. It’s normal but abnormally true. If you look at me you’d either see how much of an unoccupied shell, I am or you’d see there’s absolutely nothing different about me. Is there anything different about me? I wonder. No, I don’t feel depressed; not a mental breakdown, I suppose. You may say it’s a crossroads and each trail will take you to someplace; a particular destination each road or may destinations overlap occasionally. The destination is whatever you pick; I rather not explain that as I am about to choose which way to go.
Unmovable object - I assume I was appearing like that to some extent. You see in the movies that a person just stands still and everyone else is walking away in a somewhat fast forward motion; that’s how. I was wondering for a while if I was like a tree, not progressing and just standing tall and still. Then I corrected my own opinion; even trees move. The roots keep growing and dig deeper into the earth; the leaves appear, then die and grow again. I wouldn’t now say it’s motionless. Trees live their life the way they’re supposed to and when they die they stay the same. I was trying to figure out why I was feeling like a hollow shell; my organs are intact and functioning right. Then why should I feel like that; and I wasn’t upset either. Nothing life-altering incident has happened either.
They say when you look into the abyss long enough, the abyss looks back at you. Abyss is another word for void but can devoid have the same explanation? I think not, even though the meaning is similar. It is possible I have been looking at empty vessels long enough that I turned into one. I wish I could say I was having a hard time understanding what is happening, but I’m not particularly giving it much thought, or maybe I am thinking too much and hence I’m writing about it. I have a pile of unfinished drafts that I should complete, but I’m not doing it. Not for the lack of imagination, but of interest. Nothing is moving me; waiting for that big nudge to shift my being.
I thought of calling my oldest friends for a while now to know how they’re doing, but I just couldn’t pick up my phone and start dialing. The idea remains an idea and not an action; there’s nothing exceptional to say. Well, what’s to tell when everything seems to be perfectly alright. But then I considered texting two of them; their reply was surprising. One told me that to feel empty is good; neither you’re in misery nor sadness is looming over you. My other’s friend had more to say though; she said my batteries are empty and I’m running on fumes and how do you expect a car to go on if there isn’t any fuel? She also said that it happens from time to time when you have given away enough. Emptiness sets in when you need to refill yourself, that was her word. Maybe I need a refill too; a little pick-me-up.
But was I feeling uninhibited or was it the feeling of an unmovable object? I realize it’s somewhere in between them both. My head or I suppose my mind it wasn’t blank; it was my soul, or I should say I was soulless. You can say that this sense wears off and it will dissipate sooner than I expect; whether or not if it’s okay to feel like that. I guess it’s alright to go through that way; not a touch of helplessness or falling into despair. Just nothing, simply nothing; like the blank pages of a diary where nothing has ever been written and not a tiny smudge of ink is there and not even the name is scribbled; spotless.
I’m someone who consistently feels something; whether joy or pain, there’s always something. Lifeless is sort of new and different; tomorrow it may not be there, but today it is.
I’m the inanimate entity.
