So hard to move when all I want to do is withdraw into the safety of my cocoon. I spent much of the weekend in my own self imposed prison. Hiding.
I feel as though I can't breathe. I can't breathe because I am nothing more than a shadow of my being. I am an imprint of what used to be. Left behind, an image of my imagination.
I can't breathe because I'm not real, there's nothing tangible to mark this life, this unliving human carcass. My thoughts evaporate unnoticed into the air, like silence on a dark moonless night. Voiceless, I cannot call out to you.