Source: Writing Prompt #308
It was just an urge that he’d acted on, he’d punched the window and now he was standing in a pool of shards. He was looking for any other feeling besides the feeling of emptiness that has consumed him for years now. This was not a good day for him; he had better days when he felt like he had some control over his life. But today was different, today was just black.
He woke up this morning with emptiness around him. The feeling of grief consuming him even though he didn’t lose any loved one. The pit of his stomach seemed so heavy, his heart felt burdened, and his breathing stressed. All these feelings even though he had a good night sleep. He felt afraid, no, he felt very afraid to get out of bed. He felt the ground was filled with demons, red hot fire burning around the sanctuary of his bed. He tried to pull the covers over himself and felt weaker. His anxiety started and he was soon out breath. He didn’t know whether to leave his bed and die or stay in and die as well.
It was a bad day. He pulled himself out of bed and still felt the emptiness and fear. He felt alone, scared, and lost. He was floating in the abyss and can see himself walk across the room, hunched down, and sad. He wanted to shake himself into feeling something, anything, and didn’t know what to do. He floated down to his body, looked straight into his dark eyes and saw nothing. He peered down into the shell of his body and saw no soul anymore. A body consumed by nothingness: no hope, no dreams, no nothing. He looked and found nothing.
And he walked to the window, thinking that maybe the sunny day would lift his spirits. Huh, what spirit? There’s nothing there. It was gone, he was gone. He hoped the sun would work. On the way, he turned on the music and played one of his favorite songs so maybe, just maybe, something would flicker in the shadows. But nothing flickered. He reached the window and punched… but felt nothing except his depression.