I don’t feel good enough anymore.
Almost like the world has moved on past me.
My mind no longer has the capacity to travel through space and engage itself in the thought process behind the birth of galaxies.
My mouth no longer opens in awe at the wisdom I could speak.
My eyes are now blinded to experiencing the magic of love, of hope, of life.
It’s like death, only with more entropy and no burial eulogies.
My bed, unlike me, has forgotten what it feels like to be alone.
And somehow, I’ve been too battered to consider leaving it.
Just like I was in my last relationship.
I don’t feel anymore.
Almost like the world has left me to my demons.
Demons I wish could still torment me.
These days, all I feel is nothing.