The Void


Is this even a feeling?



Is this even a feeling?

I’m in limbo. I’m in a vast pool of white. Of nothing. I don’t feel happy. I don’t feel sad. I feel nothing.

I’m stuck in a void.

If the opposite of happiness is sadness. Why am I not sad? And if I’m not sad why am I not happy?

Why am I not feeling anything? Why can’t I escape? Why can’t I break down these walls?

This is not normal? It can’t be normal right?

Why can’t anyone hear me. I’m shouting and no one is here, no one can hear me.

I’m running and there is no end.

I feel light. But I’m heavy at the same time.

Will this end? Has it even begun?

Is this even a feeling?

I’m scared.









The heaviest tear fell down my face and landed with a thud on the front of my hoodie.

I was so tired of being like this, of feeling this way.

I wiped my eyes, smearing the salty wetness.

My vision was bleary and my nose stuffy.

All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball, turn off the lights and never come out again. But I knew there wasn’t time for this. I got up and zipped the zipper of my hoodie all the way up.

Without turning back I walked out of the door.

As the cold winters air hit my face a smile began to form on my lips.

This was only the beginning, I knew things would never be the same again.

Going back was not an option.

Writer’s Corner: Morning Pages – Songs of a Tortured Soul

My mother is a moaner. She wakes up she moans, before she sleeps she moans.

I can’t remember the last time she went a full day without moaning.

Her moans are loud roars that bounce off the walls and when she’s in a bad mood the whole house knows.

I wonder what happened to make her so bitter? What was the thing that broke inside of her, that turned off her light?

Was there ever a time when she would wake singing songs of joy?

What happened to her smile? Years of negativity have etched a permanent scowl across her face.

Her eyes are the deceivers, you can tell that deep down, locked inside her, trapped by years of hurt, an innocent and pure soul is trying to escape.

It yearns to be free, to knock down the walls that have been built up. This facade. To cast away this intruder.

But until that day, whilst it lays in wait, my mother continues on with her tirade of moans. Moaning from sunrise to sunset.

Writer’s Corner: Morning Pages – Your Smile

A smile can tell a thousand words. Well your smile can tell a thousand more. In fact your smile can tell a story, a whole book.

When I see that huge smile creep up on your face, a sense of calmness runs through me. It makes me feel safe.

I want to wrap myself in the comfort blanket of your smile. Dance in this moment forever.

Writer’s Corner: Morning Pages 7

This piece is from a writing exercise where I tried to write an opening to a story without a character making an appearance.

It was a normal cold January morning. The traffic from the rush hour had started to die down and there were less cars on the road. The temperature that had previously been -2 degrees was now rising at was at a steady 1 degree.

The wind danced upon the trees, making the leaves shiver as it passed by. Shop shutters were opening and the street lights were turning off.

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Writers Corner: Morning Pages 5

It was time to end it. I knew that it was. But why did it hurt so much? Why did I feel like I was going to lose a part of my body, a part of my being?
I wasn’t happy. Being with her was killing my soul. I wasn’t myself anymore. I wasn’t that person I had been.

Where loved once lived, hate and resentment were growing. They were growing so fast that just being around her was pure torture.

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