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I missed it

The river inside me once surged with unyielding force its waters wild and restless, breaking through every dam I reacted with the fury of storms, with the tenderness of melting ice I was a flame that burned too bright, too loud, mad with feeling, dizzy with the chaos of love and pain Every moment was a tempest I trembled, I laughed, I wept without shame I lived inside the very edges of madness, because to feel less was unthinkable But that river has run dry not by choice, not by will, but by countless silences swallowed whole, by countless touches that never reached, by countless words that turned away The warmth was squeezed out slowly like light fading through cracked glass and what remains is the cold stillness of stone There is no longer a storm inside me, no eruption, no thunder, even the smallest joys fall like rain on dust, unable to awaken what has been sealed away Love too has become a ghost, a distant echo barely remembered, not because it was lost but because it was never tr...
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Lost in the forest

 Adrift in a sea of desolation, I belong nowhere. Neither to a room, a country, nor a person, and perhaps not even to myself. This is what it means to be lost, to feel the chill of numbness seep into the soul. I yearn for happiness, or even the fiery embrace of anger, but these emotions have abandoned me. How can I grasp love when even the simplest sentiments elude me? Not merely love for another, but for life itself, for the very essence of my being. I crave the fierce extremes of emotion once more, to be certain of my actions, to know that I truly desire them.I am lost, wandering aimlessly through an abyss of shadows, the end hidden from my sight. The dark forest envelops me, its twisted branches clawing at my skin, each step deeper into the unknown sinking me further into despair. The canopy above is so dense that even the slightest glimmer of light cannot penetrate, leaving me in perpetual twilight. The forest floor is a treacherous labyrinth of roots and decay, threatening to ensnare me at every turn. Even if I glimpsed the end, would it matter? Whether bathed in sunlight and blossoms or shrouded in stormy clouds and corpses, nothing stirs within me. As I traverse this mortal coil, timeless and forsaken, I ponder if I will ever feel again.I yearn to be in love. To be consumed by a passion that ignites the soul and breathes life into the hollow recesses of my heart. I dream of a love so profound that it resurrects every dormant fragment of my being, filling the void with purpose and ecstasy.Buried beneath the weight of uncertainty, I rot. Enveloped in a void I cannot fathom, perhaps mourning its very presence or lamenting my own existence. The cruel marks of the gnarled branches that lash at me as I seek escape from this forest cannot symbolize my past; they must not. Instead, they seem to carve deeper into my spirit, each scratch a reminder of my isolation and despair.Escape from this numbing dread eludes me. I am drowning in an ocean of numbness, the cold waters filling my lungs, pulling me into the depths of indifference. Love remains a distant specter, haunting the shadowy corridors of my heart. My bed, my abode, feels alien, as if I am but a phantom in my own life. As a lost soul, I realize that this profound sense of not belonging is a poison that rots from within. My cries from beneath the earth go unheard. I yearn for a savior, for I cannot free myself. Ensnared in this darkness, I long to feel. To simply feel.

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