Swallowed Empty

And she wonders distantly within the twilight hours of her own mind if maybe one little thought has made all the difference. She's thinking of past times and past days, spending hours in waiting, just to go to sleep at night at the end of the clock's round. A far away murmur deafens her own voice, her tongue splitting, never spilling secrets. Once there was a time where she was needed and missed, once there was a time when she didn't have to blink twice an remind herself that she's still alive. There was a time when she didn't have to wonder; a time when she didn't need to care, or second guess. That time has gone into the depths of a drowning world, and she is left alone and merely breathing.

Living just seems to be another mundane thing in this world to her now, and she can't help but guess that maybe it will never change, or go back to the way it was. Is it so much to ask for a bit of time? Just a single moment when she wasn't the one who felt unloved? Could there ever be one time in her life where she was sought after, because she was genuinely missed? Perhaps she is not as strong as she thought she was, but then, she was always her worst critic, wasn't she? Maybe something needs to change, and she needs to stop feeling so needy. Or maybe she's the one to blame for all of this happening in the first place.

Loving words echo in the back of her hollowed head, and they twist and turn into the last words that were said. She wonders if she really is such a hefty burden. Perhaps she should try carrying such a weight on her shoulders, but there is no one that clings to her half as much. There is no one who wants her to be here just to fill a space, no one who thinks of her and the time spent. No one time every moment counts, or listens and watches for every hint. No one would spend so much time on such a hassle as this. No one except maybe herself that is.

All she had ever wanted was to mean as much. All she had ever dreamed of was to feel important, and not just in a certain way by one, but in a way by all, or at least one other not counted as an intimate encounter. Perhaps her dreams are too out there to ever be; perhaps she may as well open the glass door and set them free. But then she would be left with nothing but emptiness, and there is no satisfaction, no joy or bliss. Loneliness cannot be such a crime these days, but maybe she is too lonely, too dependent, too childish. Maybe all she ever was is selfish, but how can she judge herself? That's right...she is her worst critic.

Feeling creep up over her body and grasp her in a net of numbed emptiness. She wallows in the guilt of being the only person too needy, too clingy, and too exhausting to deal with. She can't be missed, nor needed that much at all. She wonders what would happen, who would notice, who would take the time to stop and care...if she were to fall. She thought about fading away a couple of times, and yet she could not bear the problems that would arise should she choose to play such a cruel trick. Perhaps she is too soft hearted, or maybe she expects too much of anyone or anything that were supposed to care.