Why am I like this?
Today should have been lovely.
What is this feeling?
A strange sensation I can never shake off.
I feel so empty, like my insides have been scooped out.
Like there’s nothing left.
I’m just a hollow suit.
There’s nothing inside.
Why do I have to be like this,
Like treasuring what I do not possess?
No mind, no heart, no identity.
No past, no future, and bleak present.
I just want to connect with others;
I want someone else but can never get it.
Bound to live nothing but loneliness,
And live on dejected, forever dreaming and bitter.
I want to understand, to be understood,
To fully live and grow,
But what if there’s really nothing inside?
What if I’m so vile that everything erodes within?
This story is part of a collection of poems and short stories of my creation, called “Grimoire of a Weirdo”.