Do you ever look back on life and feel an unfilled void in your chest?
For me, I physically feel pressure on my upper-chest and beneath my chest cavity it feels like my heart has been scooped out. It’s not like an anxiety attack, but more so of a dull ache; it’s as if I’m an animate husk—simply living, eating breathing, etc., to not feel more pain than I need to.
Looking back on life stresses me out. I had youthful skin and hair, granted I wasn’t incredibly good looking, but I still may have had a chance if I were to have the opportunity. Now I have none of it, and I’m sure in the future I’ll lose more of what I hadn’t taken for granted.
To know my youth had been gutted. No friends. No relationship. No childhood to look back on. In fact, I don’t remember much of it. It all seemed like a nightmare. My brain can’t even make sense of it. Everything is a blur, a trauma my brain is trying to write over, but instead of fixing it, it only leaves a hallow shell that cannot be filled.
Even if there were to be a life changing event in my life where I were to become a chad it would never be enough. My past has consumed me, digging me into a pit I simply can’t climb out of. Being a child in a war torn country would serve more value than my empty, depressing life.
I just don’t know what to make of it.
For me, I physically feel pressure on my upper-chest and beneath my chest cavity it feels like my heart has been scooped out. It’s not like an anxiety attack, but more so of a dull ache; it’s as if I’m an animate husk—simply living, eating breathing, etc., to not feel more pain than I need to.
Looking back on life stresses me out. I had youthful skin and hair, granted I wasn’t incredibly good looking, but I still may have had a chance if I were to have the opportunity. Now I have none of it, and I’m sure in the future I’ll lose more of what I hadn’t taken for granted.
To know my youth had been gutted. No friends. No relationship. No childhood to look back on. In fact, I don’t remember much of it. It all seemed like a nightmare. My brain can’t even make sense of it. Everything is a blur, a trauma my brain is trying to write over, but instead of fixing it, it only leaves a hallow shell that cannot be filled.
Even if there were to be a life changing event in my life where I were to become a chad it would never be enough. My past has consumed me, digging me into a pit I simply can’t climb out of. Being a child in a war torn country would serve more value than my empty, depressing life.
I just don’t know what to make of it.
