Hollow @ MindSay

so fucking lonely

this is what anorexia does to you. you have friends, a life, have laughs then suddenly it all gets taken away from you. your confined to sit alone, drinking diet coke and having a smoke- everyone is scared of you. noone understands. 3 years down the line and im 'better' now but im left with a hollow feeling of meaninglessness. i dont have a purpose anymore, im not the girl people stared at, im not recognised, im not famous for anything anymore. im the one everyone forgot about as they moved on with their lives. im trying to pick up the broken pieces.....

so fucking lonely

this is what anorexia does to you. you have friends, a life, have laughs then suddenly it all gets taken away from you. your confined to sit alone, drinking diet coke and having a smoke- everyone is scared of you. noone understands. 3 years down the line and im 'better' now but im left with a hollow feeling of meaninglessness. i dont have a purpose anymore, im not the girl people stared at, im not recognised, im not famous for anything anymore. im the one everyone forgot about as they moved on with their lives. im trying to pick up the broken pieces.....

so fucking lonely

this is what anorexia does to you. you have friends, a life, have laughs then suddenly it all gets taken away from you. your confined to sit alone, drinking diet coke and having a smoke- everyone is scared of you. noone understands. 3 years down the line and im 'better' now but im left with a hollow feeling of meaninglessness. i dont have a purpose anymore, im not the girl people stared at, im not recognised, im not famous for anything anymore. im the one everyone forgot about as they moved on with their lives. im trying to pick up the broken pieces.....

I'm alone now. I guess it didn't occur to me that when he was gone, he wouldn't be here.  At all. 

It's freezing, and quiet, and I feel a little hollow.

I have writers block.

 

I have artists block.

 

I have every block imaginable. I'm not miserable enough, there isn't enough rage, enough sadness and depression boiling inside of me screaming to be let out. I'm starting to feel empty. What is the opposite of sadness? I've forgotten that feeling, this feeling, i've been hollowed out from this for so long.

 

I encompass every bit of my miserable self into my art, into my work, and now this sensation is gone. I want to give birth to something new, my own baby creation, and nothing comes out. Nothing comes forth and all I have left is unfinished poetry, fragmented art, undeveloped stories of love and anguish. Falling to pieces, waiting to be reborn, to come anew under my hands once again.

 

I'm still waiting for my inspiration.