Remember how I talked about being emotionless?

Let me tell you what that's like.

It's like pouring water out of a pitcher onto a beautiful plant. And it's soaking up the water and soaking up the water; it's thirsty, it's needy. And then all of a sudden, you run out of water. You turn the pitcher upside down, and not a drop is there, and the plant is still craving, yearning for more. Out of desperation, you shake the pitcher a little bit, but to no avail. There was simply nothing there.

That's what it feels like. It feels hollow, empty. It feels unnatural. There's a void, a darkness that's just settled inside of you. Laughing, smiling, crying- that is all on the surface. You claw for some sort of genuine emotion, but there is just nothing underneath. It's like trying to reach for something and only coming into contact with thin air. No matter how hard you search, you simply cannot find something that isn't there. Then out of the blue, you feel something, and emotion comes back- barely. Just a little, but it never stays. Maybe it lasts for one minute, two? And then it's gone again.

I said that this isn't the first time I've been emotionless; I've been experiencing these things for...oh, a year and a half now? These are phases. They come and they go, but they've never lasted like this, and has never been this intense before. Honestly, it's kind of scaring me, somewhere deep down that I can't reach. Slowly, this emptiness is eating me alive, and a dulled sort of horror is taking over me. I'm scared, because...once this dominates, I'm gone. I was out with Angela and Grace today, and though Angela says that I acted completely normal, I felt my sensitivity and energy just slipping away. I could barely hear myself talk. Other times, I had some sort of control over it, and emotions always came back to me in the end.

This time, I have none. I'm scared. Maybe terrified, even. Being emotionally dead? Pfft. This is being emotionally dead, not sulking over a broken heart. This is...I don't even know what this is. All I know is that I'm being torn to pieces, because I'm watching it happen, but I'm not feeling any pain. Instead, there's some sort of quietness. And sometimes, I just feel like laughing as I watch. There's a river of crimson on the cold, stone floor that flows into a pool of red blood. My limbs are marble white; eyes looking blankly up at the sky. There are raves perched on my stomach and my legs, and one on my arm. The one on my stomach is pecking at me, and though logically, my blood has already run dry, more continues to pour.

Maybe...maybe it's better this way. No sadness, no pain, no happiness, no excitement, no disappointment. Well, everything comes with a price.