A Creeping Void

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.