Hollow.

Fog. It's foggy. The memories are a blur. They spin and whizz past me. A storm brews overhead, but do I care? No. This isn’t new. It is merely one of the millions of storms I had experienced before.

People say at the end of their lives, they’d finally reach a state of peace. Shame I wouldn't be one of them. Everytime i get pelted with bombs, shredded limb to limb from beasts, burned alive as the fire melted the skin off my body, I'd always wake up, facing the blue blue sky. The clear skies looked down onto me, taunting me for making that foolish wish.

It’s lonely and chillingly cold. Everytime i think I have found someone, in the blink of an eye, they vanish. No matter how tightly I tried to hold onto them, they all ended up drifting away, never to be heard from again. Longing for the warmth of someone who could always be by my side, a comforting presence to tell me that I'm not alone, yet deprived of said presence. Humans are such curious creatures, needing a community and social life to live. I’ve never quite thought thoroughly on the importance of social life until the wish was granted.

At first, it was unbearable, the thought of being alone forever tormented me. I spent days and nights, sobbing quietly to myself, until my tears could run no more, and I hugged myself to the point where even my arms and legs were sore. In this world, I only had myself, and nobody else. The days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Months into years. With every tear I shed, I lost a little bit of my feelings along with it too. I spent centuries having my emotional state spiral downwards, until I had no more emotions to speak of. Only then was I empty. Empty of tears. Empty of emotions. A mere shell of what I was. Humans were never made to be solitary animals. Once separated and left alone in this world, I lost my humanity. I couldn’t be called human anymore. I moved to a faraway land to live in, so as to separate my life from theirs. I couldn’t go around and risk the possibility of building a relationship with another short lived human. It simply isn't worth it.

A hollow feeling in your chest makes you feel alone. Loneliness comes in many forms. It could be someone just sitting in the corner feeling singled out, a widow perhaps, or even a kid being left forgotten in an aisle of a supermarket. Loneliness’s hands are cold, yet rash, wrenching your heart out and replacing it with a solemn cold. Whether that coldness invokes terror, anger, or sadness, I wouldn't know. I have…forgotten. The warmth and gentleness of my parents’ hands. The happiness my friends would have brought to me. The soothing words I used to hear from my many dates. I have tried and failed to replace them. Being deprived of them seems to have turned me mentally unsound. After all, how could I even attempt to replace them? They are irreplaceable, after all. Without them, the hollow feeling comes creeping back, like a nasty old friend that you can’t get rid of. Someone that’s unwelcomed, yet giving you a familiar sensation. I spend my days with a hollow feeling. Just me, by a hillside with overgrown grass, dazing away again. There’s nothing I want to do anymore. Whether rain, or shine, I sat in that spot, not moving an inch anymore. This was a state of rest, for me. Maybe, I thought, If I stayed still like that everyday, I would eventually pass away without knowing.

Vines wounded their way around my body. The grass surrounding me only got taller and taller. Before I knew it, I couldn’t even see the sky anymore due to the tall, tall grass. The wet moss found its way to the surface of my skin. From the crevices of my body where water was collected, tiny mushrooms grew, finding their way onto me. The occasional animals came trudging by, curious snouts sniffing, yet never staying for too long. I wasn’t bothered by anything anymore, I couldn’t be bothered by anything anymore. I had become one with nature, and nature was part of me.

I had killed my humanity, my mind, my emotions, my everything, yet some part of me still refused to die. My vessel still couldn’t fade away. But it was fine. Nature can claim my vessel for all she wants to. I’d give it to her, I’m fine with anything, now. I didn’t care if my body was tossed around in the ocean, being fed on by animals, nor caught in a fire. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t stressed. I just stared, devoid of any feelings. Hollow.