I am "Untitled."

I suddenly wanted to write, before I went to sleep. So this is a first draft, without any editing, just a rough first draft.

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1. .

Sometimes I’ll be sitting, staring out of my window, watching the clouds slowly move as the earth rotates. Life carries on, and time keeps moving forward. I sometimes go into this bubble, where I’m just a figure.

 

Still.

 

I think about the time that has past, the memories we hold of a time that has long left us now. Even from beginning this story…Time has moved on significantly. It’s strange to think that the present quickly becomes a memory, and yet, history feels… alive? to us. Who we were at a particular time, to how we are now, or how we were before that time. The memories we have bring back emotions, that make us suddenly feel colourful. They are what made us who we are now, and who we intend to be.

 

However, it’s not always what we expect. Sometimes, when living in a particular moment, you don’t really think about how something that makes you feel so much joy, and life, could ever possibly make you feel the opposite, in time to come. 

 

The worst, is when you have these memories come back to you, you know, the ones you always thought you were going to laugh when thinking about them, 

 

 

and all you feel is 

 

 

 

numb.

No sadness. No joy. No laughter. Not something. Not anything. No feeling what so ever. 

 

It becomes this matte translucent clouded grey. It’s not something that is highly defined, with sharp edges, and a clear cut. No matter how much I-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No matter how much I try. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to feel something; Even when I force myself to feel something, tensing my muscles, straining my mind, forcing my body to use up energy as though I’m on a treadmill that won’t stop moving, I still feel nothing. 

 

In my mind, I become sad. I’ll say to myself “It’s sad, you know? That it’s come to this… a point where you cared so much before, and spent so much energy, feeling a certain way in the past about something, and now, whenever you think back to it…it’s numb.” But even then, I still feel nothing. Because in reality, if I truly dig deep into this matte translucent clouded grey bubble of mine, all I see is a waste of memories. 

 

And whilst writing these words down, to solidify them in my mind, and heart

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My face remains blank.

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