Hole Is Where the Heart Is


Black within black

I’m hollow.


This isn’t new. Nor is my awareness of it. I’ve long been content with that hollowness. I’ve found ways to be happy.


But that doesn’t change the simple fact.


Would I feel better if that void was filled? Asking that is like seeking a cat’s opinions on astrophysics. A person can’t imagine something that they have no frame of reference for.


And yet, in moments of weakness, I sometimes try, burning time on futile thoughts.


In moments of strength, I can embrace the void. I am not defined by the emptiness; it is defined by its place within me. Therefore, by simple logic, I must be more.


At times, the void yawns, gapes, threatens to swallow me, but I haven’t fit side of it yet. Not entirely.


And so, I’m hollow, a bearer of the void. A foundation is stronger than the building it supports. Therefore, by simple logic, I must be stronger than the emptiness.


Simple logic isn’t always right.


It isn’t always wrong, either.

I’m not entirely sure what that was supposed to be, honestly, but I felt a need to share it. For all that this is a rather quiet and secluded corner of the Internet, it’s my sanctuary, and there hasn’t been a post yet that didn’t make me feel better, even if it was just talking about depression or disappointment. Without those negative feelings, the positive ones would have so much less meaning.

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