I feel so empty and nothing seems real.
Life no longer pushes me and pulls me as it once did.
I lack the enthusiasm and the wondrous hope that I had when I was young.
Instead I'm all alone with my thoughts.
I drift by, divested of the things that make one whole.
I'm nothing but a fragmented man without direction.
This world is truly hard to believe and life is so surreal.
I don't even have the energy to be angry like I used to, and I kind of miss it. At least then I felt alive.
Now I simply drift by without leaving a shadow behind.
A forgettable person with no legacy and nothing to impart.
Leaving nothing in this world and taking nothing out.
I will fade into the ether as if I never really existed, leaving the few who notice to wonder: was I a phantom?
Perhaps what I am is an apparition, not truly anchored to this plane, riding the wavelengths of the dark matter that floats between the worlds.
I'm an apathetic, irresolute being—a man who is here for a purpose that is yet to be discovered, but relegated to this life of insistent inconsistency.
All fades away in the end, but nothing is left behind. Nothing...except me.