Empty

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What's wrong with me? Why do I feel so alone? I have amazing friends, a lover, a family, so why aren't I happy? I have everything that they told us when we were kids; things they told us would make us happy. I feel so empty, like there is a physical pit on the inside of my heart, eatinging away at my insides and tearing apart the very being of my soul. I'm like a clock that has ceased to tick because one of the gears has fallen loose and has left a chasm in its place.
Maybe its the midnight moonlight shining on the first snow of winter reflecting through my window onto my bedroom wall. Maybe its the burning, aching headache burning at the back of my mind. Maybe it's the broken heart littering my soul and mind with thoughts of yesterday.
All I know, is that I feel alone. Empty and crushed under the weight of this world's ridiculous reality of overweight American adults and starving African children. The reality that money is the driving force of almost every human movement. The reality that I am stuck where I am until I'm 18, and probably longer. The reality that I'm stuck with a fate that isn't mine.
Some days I wish I could cry. I wish I could cry a river, cry a lake, cry an ocean. As if crying washes away all caresband worries forever until the end of the world comes. But my eyes are like a desert, with no oasises on the horizon. Just millions of miles of tearless journey. I'm empty; empty of tears, empty of emotion, empty of thought or feeling.

Because everyone else seems to be empty of care.

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