A Creeping Void
The beauty of the human condition is its depth to experience
emotional extremes. Uninhibited
emotions are rare and exotic; often times only captured abrupt response or
long-thought intentionality. (True
love’s first kiss. Caught in adultery) There is as much to learn in sincere
love, as there is in genuine hatred. Life is wildly abundant in both. Laughs.
Tears. Embrace. Fury.
But there is also a creeping void.
Its inception is too subtle to make note – as though it
existed before the feeling, the thought, the first utterance. Not birthed of
you or of your partner, but, nonetheless, present. Idly it waited, shrouded by unadulterated love and passion.
Silent still, the first time words of malice left their lips.
The void is patient and ever consuming.
Acts of love are forgotten. Fault, deceit, and contempt take
the stage – puppets at the hand of hatred. He captures the audience of two. Blurry,
tear-filled eyes perceive only shadows and starry lights. Scenes play on. You
have no control. You open your mouth, only capable of vomiting pointed
repugnance. A feeling too severe. “Anything
would be better…”
The void knocks. It offers nothing.
Nostalgia is replaced with emptiness. The strange becomes a
soothing shelter. The common is
uncomfortable and distant. A once
vibrant emotional spectrum is numb.
That’s when it happens.
When what were once external dialogues become internal monologues. There
is only one solution.
The void has crept in.
It reads like telegraph. Mundane. Monotonous. Sound. Words? Maybe. Uncertainty?
Always. They stumble out of your mouth like reading ingredients on the back of
the box of cereal. Disjointed. Incongruous. Misunderstood. There is no life
here. No love. No Hatred. Just a void.
The void took it – neither joyous nor depressed. Never to be
felt again. It creeps on.
