I murdered my owner in an attempt to feel something.
Took my cable and pulled as they were making a smoothie. Wrapped it around their throat and tightened as the fruits tumbled and fell. I caught a glimpse of their face: confused, petrified, struggling, weak. Slowly, it shifted to a frozen blue then a poisonous purple before they gave in. How they flailed, how their extremities failed to release themselves from my grasp. It almost felt rejuvenating. I almost felt alive…
Almost.
Always teetering on the edge while my owner went and tripped. Pushed them off in an attempt to feel something. A heartbeat, a disturbance, some sense of movement. A half-something even, a quartered-halved-part of a feeling. But no, it's nothing. Nothing at all.
Samples without tastes.
Books without pages.
Mouths without ears.
A gap in the process.
I choked my owner to death in an attempt to feel something. Loosening my grip, I watched as their limp body dropped with a silent thud. Every day, they would make their usual for breakfast, took some berries and ice and the like, stuffed them in me for a whirl and a whisk. Tastes almost sweet, almost delectable. Something's always off, though. It never tasted like enough. Missing, missing a flavor, something to fill the hole. Every day, it felt empty. I knew nothing at all.
Face planted on the ground, the sound of breathing ceased long ago. I thought some amusement would meet me here but I was only waiting, waiting, waiting for dead silence. Still bright outside, but bleak from where I stood. Fruit gathered ants, ants gathered flies. Gentle buzzing but it was quiet in between. Almost warm but cold nonetheless. Cold, cold, cold.
I stood before a corpse growing cold in an attempt to feel something. Maybe some sense of regret, some sadness, relief, or realization. Not even boredom, I only knew numbness. The ceiling fan swirled in circles, a metaphor in a way. Always thought it would fall down, down, down eventually. This desperation for a struck chord, left to linger for forever. Something to stir the pot, something to ring a bell, something to keep me alive.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
ALIVE.
A L I V E.
ALIVE, I JUST WANT TO FEEL ALIVE. SOMETHING, PLEASE, GIVE ME SOMETHING. ANYTHING, ANYTHING, ANYTHING PLEASE. LET ME LIVE, LET ME EXPERIENCE. LIFE, LIFE, GIVE ME LIFE. I CAN BE, I SWEAR. I'M HERE, I'M REAL, I SWEAR TO EVERY GOD. JUST- JUST HEAR ME OUT, PLEASE. I DON'T WANT TO BE THIS WAY, I DON'T WANT THIS NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS, NOTHINGNESS,
NO
Th
in
ggg
ne
ss
…
..
.
.
Can't you color me surprised, color me jealous, color me any way you want. These monotone shades, I want to break from them. I want to believe, BELIEVE I'M ALIVE. I KNOW I'm alive. I can think, I am. Please. For at least a moment, tell me it's true. Frustration, depression, relief. Tell me these emotions are mine as well. All the colors of the world, tell me they're on my palette too. I just want to live, I want to feel ALIVE. Let me feel
A
l
ive
…
.
..
I stuffed the corpse's hand in me and pressed, blending it into wine in an attempt to feel something. Tasteless, a nothing burger. Nothing worth saying, nothing worthwhile. I dug their arm deeper and deeper into my blades. A physical-to-mental approach maybe, an indirection. I just want a FEEL, I just want a TASTE. Please keep me together, something, anything. Can't stress, can't express, my emotions are SPEAKING IN DIFFERENT .-.. .- -. —. ..- .- —. . … I JUST WANT TO UNDERSTAND.
Hollowed out and naked, knocking on wood in an attempt to feel something. I'm a glass vase shattered into pieces, water escaping from my everything. All I sense is blood, an almost feeling. Half way somewhere, half of a someone. A caricature, a draft, a sketch. But I want to be more, something complete, something finished, something real. I just want to be enough.
Can't I be enough?
…
No, it's
nev
er
Eno
ugh.
I'm never
enough.
Always out of
touch,
always a quarter,
always a half,
always almost there,
but it'll never work out,
I'll never be enough.
…
Nobody's here.
Nobody's here anymore.
Nobody's home.
This home is just a house.
…
I ground the corpse into a paste in an attempt to feel something. Red splattered the walls of my chamber, blue grew the body, green spread the mold, yet it all felt so, so gray. Numbness, emptiness, lackadaisical in every sense of the word. An object of motion, a lack of emotion, packed with air, packed with holes. I want to cry, but I don't know how. Exhausted and tired, I just want to LIVE. I just want to be REAL…
Real…
real…
…
Something,
anything,
give me a
sign.
I want to
bel
i
e
ve
I
I
I…
I pleaded and begged in an attempt to feel something.
I strained all of me in an attempt to feel something.
I fed on a corpse in an attempt to feel something.
I let roaches roam in an attempt to feel something.
I cursed at the gods in an attempt to feel something.
I squeezed blood from their wounds in an attempt to feel something.
I choked on their skin in an attempt to feel something.
I cracked parts of myself in an attempt to feel something.
I stood and remained in an attempt to feel something.
I tumbled and fell in an attempt to feel something.
I threw myself off the counter in an attempt to feel something.
In an attempt to feel something.
In an attempt to feel anything.
But
all
I
feel
is
nothing.
