There is nothing in this life anymore— just this immense sadness, etched into me like a tattoo I never agreed to wear.
Happiness comes and goes in the span of a few seconds, a spark I can name but never keep.
But the worst is the in‑between, the gray place where everything is muted. At least when I was sad, I knew what to do with myself. At least when I was sad, I had reasons to stop the things I loved. At least when I was sad, it stayed.
When I’m happy, I feel it for a moment— brief, bright, real. But now there’s nothing. Even surrounded by sadness, I feel nothing. Even surrounded by joy, deep inside I feel nothing.