And Another

   The silence of the house was eerily so, and the stationary positions of the object in my room were just as I had left it just six weeks ago. I waited a few minutes at the door without entering, just letting all the relief and desolation wash over my body.  The absence of sound created a sense of privacy and dominance: they were a prevailing image of the person that I had used to be, before all of what had happened.

    It was hard for me to pinpoint the origin of the feeling in my head. It was what the feeling I first succumbed to at three, watching a golden disk sprout above where the sky was basting deep hues of pink and lilac hen the water, light and dark blue as the sunrise beckoned in front of me. And again at seven where I had spied the moon painting silhouettes of trees in the background of a starry night on a pier.  Just behind me was a mystical ocean of whales, sharks, and dolphins, unsettling but somehow proved to be captivating my soul towards the heart of the sea. I had last felt it at fourteen while hiking up a path leading into a mountain looming over in the vast distance. There was a magic in watching the necklaces of powder wash down into the chasm that caught it down below.

    I plumped my bag down spilling over all of its contents and strolled over to my windowsill. I looked on into the early morning where the spread of loneliness seemed to have expanded since before. What did all of those moments have in common? Peace? Solitude? No. It was the base of existence, the motor of every living being... it is the need of one's body as it is the goal of one's spirit: joy.

    I stepped into the shower and embodied myself into the rush of water that sprayed onto me. Awaiting the slow painful moments that were to lie in front of me. I had thought I had wanted to wipe off the grime and sweat that I had held but I realized that it the dirt I was trying to get rid of, it was the reminder. The remainder of the sense of… just not wanting to exist. Not specifically to commit suicide, just the wish to disappear and stop being. The will to allow me to enter the land of apathy.

    I remembered that the French had a word for this… l'appel du vide. The call of the void. The urge to self-destruct during simple, everyday behaviors. But not for suicidal purposes, but rather to just stop your own existence as to relieve the stress that you bring to the others around.

    I don’t like other people, I don’t really try to get out of the comforts of my life. Sometimes I like to go into the library of my house, off all the lights, and just stare at the world outside. I sometimes play classical music, not because I like it, in fact, it annoys me, it is just way too boring, but it helps drown the voices out, which helps. I really like people watching, I’ve done it for as long as I can remember, it lets me get out of my own try to embody myself in someone else.

    I lead a rather little life, well, interesting, and fun, at times, but a little life. And sometimes, at times like these I can’t help but wonder if I do because I like to, or because I wasn’t good enough, or smart enough, or a risk taker. I mean, sometimes go for a walk and I see lovely things but I recognize lines