Ever get this feeling that nothing seems to matter?
That everything seems void of meaning and purpose and interest?
And so, you exist in this huge blank space,
this black hole of sorts, and there is this…
this existential loneliness that fills you.
And what irony is this—to be filled with emptiness.
And what is it even,you might ask
—this foreign, incapacitating feeling—
It is sadness,anxiety, loneliness on a deeper level.
More than simple sadness, it is this void.
This tragedy of not being understood inside out.
It is the tragedy of being a mystery nobody can solve.
Of having secrets you are desperate to spill,
but only to the right person.
It is being a hundred layers deep,
and only being seen for that layer and a half
that you present to the world.
There is so much of you that the world does not,
and will never know about,
that you begin to question the validity of its existence:
What is this world? Why is it so important?
If it is the only dimension I can exist in,
then how come I feel so out of place?
How come the average lifespan is 60 or 70 years,
and yet I feel like I have been living for centuries?
It is being an alien in your own home planet.
It is speaking languages and knowing people only you have heard of.
It is being a world all by yourself.
(And all to yourself)
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