Emptiness is nothing you can share

It’s 5:30 in the morning. Everyone is asleep, so quiescent. You aimlessly walk around the cold, silent house.


You feel so tragically empty, yet so emotionally exhausted from… from what? You don’t even know. Your thoughts are of everything and thus of nothing. You know what you feel but to be able to express them, to manifest the feelings into either verbal or written words so to make some sense of them – your mind empties as quickly as it was filled. Forming sentences has never been so impossible.

You just want to cry. You want to release the tears behind the floodgates before these walls you have created around you come crumbling down. You just want it to end. But why do you want to cry? After all, you can’t even discern what it is that seems to be causing this pain. So there is nothing to cry about, nothing to feel about. Nothing.

You take another trip to the kitchen. You’ve been taking many of these throughout the night, snacking on bots of food here and there. You can’t seem to stop eating. Nothing satisfies you.

Why are you eating? You aren’t even hungry. But you are… your stomach needs to be filled. or are you confusing your mental emptiness with your physical?

Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, you eye the fridge then the pantry. You look down to the ground and walk to them. “Fuck this, I shouldn’t eat, I’ve been eating all night. I’m fucking fat. No wonder he doesn’t want me…” You say to yourself.

“Don’t eat. Walk past them and back to the lounge room. Don’t eat.”.

You listen to that voice in your head. You can’t help it. It is logic, after all.

You sit back down at the computer. It’s 6 am. Tears start to swell in your eyes. You’ve never felt so alone. You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is wrong. But to specify You don’t know. It’s just everything….? Yet everything is thus nothing.

Everything is fine. Just life another da in ignorance. Suppress those bad feelings just a little more longer. You know you can. You’ve been doing it for years, you have plenty of practice… But, you’re starting to wear thin…


Goals, what are they good for? Achieving!

  • To build my own akashic library here on earth.
  • Give legitimacy to the pursuit of metaphysical knowledge and practices.
  • Reform the education system in order to allow for the fostering of creativity and critical thinking.
  • Collaborate with other creative individuals in the creation and production of music, art, drama, industrial and mystic arts.
    • podcast / vodcast / learning resources / books / merchanise
    • Music, skits, art, satire, expressive, original, renditions
  • establish the cult of kim, my personal “spiritual and religious” to kick jesus to the curb and cut out sacrificial lambs and martyrs.
  • Get the fuck over yourself and your pompous attitude!
    • Own your own shit, accept it to move on from it.
    • Recognise it for itself, accept the consequences, move on

This blog? MODERN MYSTIC MOTHER? I think I’m settling on a tiny anti-cosplayer. I love cosplay, but I use my words and last of my physical energy to bee in the running. have an tin g ad re



Shadows within the darkness will you speak to me and answer the questions that rattles my mind – you are my eternal answer, my eternal anger.

Reflection upon the mirror, when will you show me an image of myself, and why do I stare at you like I see someone else, like I see someone else.

Creek by the tree, how do I get beyond? dampen me with your frigid water, and as I plunge across, answers lie on the other side.

Well ‘I don’t know’ is what the future holds. / ‘I don’t know’ is the meaning of life. / ‘I don’t know’ is the meaning for our existencence / ‘I don’t know’ is when time began. / ‘I don’t know’ is what an axa is.

Think I’m super creative?

I’m not, but I just sort of know make things look good. I am a self made friggen expert of faking it until I make it, figuring shit out and making it up as I go and along.

You could always pay a tribute though. I like presents and stuff.

Categories: Creative Writing

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4 replies

  1. Damn. I wanna cry now. The first part of your post is so true to my experience as well. That nameless… well, grief… is the only way I can put it. Like, I know to cry… but… what is the crying for? Hell if I know.

    And why can’t the emptiness just fill up, for flip’s sake? With something, anything? I am walking hole.

    And my thoughts… so much spam…

    Liked by 1 person

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