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Hollowed

Becoming Something Else Entirely

What do we do when we're mocked or limited? Lash out via words or actions? What can we truly do to make people stop mocking us or listen? These are some of the questions that have recently been stirring in my mind. I feel extremely limited and mocked everywhere I turn, to the point of where I don't feel like existing. So I crawl into my mind and become an empty and hollow shell because there is nothing I can do to change anyone's mind; I am not a necessity, I am not needed so if I become an empty shell, it doesn't affect anyone.

Mocking leads to depression and suicidal tendencies or actions, and with three failed attempts, the only thing that's left is the killing of my mind. Each day crawling deeper and deeper into blackness, watching the world around me fade into nothing. When you become nothing you are reborn in a way. You never truly stop surviving because you have no choice. No one to wake you up by grabbing you and shaking you, and no one that is going to show up and do you the favor of killing you. 

So you find things to pass time, be it exercising, writing, dancing, or other forms of expression or hobbies. One-by-one every ounce of joy that you receive from each hobby starts to fade so you get less and less satisfaction from your hobbies, rendering you more useless to the world. Soon you find yourself curled up in a ball with darkness leeching everything from you. Every waking day more draining than the last, with more obstacles, more mocking, and nothing being real.

Everything is temporary, nothing is real, even if you can touch something you don't feel it. Because you don't feel real, you don't feel alive. You have no friends, no one close so every day you become more mechanical and less real. You fade into the background like vaguely making out something in the distance only to have you unsure of it being real or a mirage. Fading each day until nothing. Nothing will change, everything is stagnant and limited. 

Poetry helps you not feel as mechanical, but it only goes so far due to the fact that poetry is an outlet but it's for you alone. No one else can read it and feel the same feelings, no one can do that without truly taking an intimate aspect of yourself in which is reserved for those who actually want to be a part of your life. Poetry is deep and deciphering it takes time and energy. Every piece of writing has different thoughts, feelings, and emotions all together so no one can truly decipher it.

The audience skims and take in bits and pieces of it but not enough to make you feel seen, or alive. Reaching for substance is the only thing that takes the pain away and no matter how temporary or unreal the feeling, you always reach for it because it has become the only thing that makes you feel. In a way, that is true death. No longer being able to sustain your own body and mind without substance. So you turn into an entity capable of seducing, attracting, singing, and enchanting guys who can provide you with such substance. Be it by toying with their heart, or playing mind-games, not because you're purposely being cruel or anything like that, but because it's the only way that you feel alive; in that moment they just become a target, a means to an end. When you've failed in that aspect because you're not attractive enough, smart enough, or because the sext you sent them didn't provoke enough, you shut down. 

Everything in you becomes a failure and those around you see it and see you as weaker than them. Then they pounce and continue to mock and ridicule until you become that hollow shell capable of snapping at any given moment...

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Hollowed
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