the silence in my room was suffocating,
it smelled like mold and dust
as i took the blade out again.
it looked better than other days,
looking kinder than most things do
a happy promise,
wearing a halo of relief.
it felt comforting, knowing
all it takes is letting it meet my skin.
i got tired of saying this, but
just because my grief isn’t loud
doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
it sits quietly,
heavy on my chest,
the gut-wrenching pain,
the guilt of not crying out loud,
the guilt of not screaming.
so i held my breath
as i forgot,
i suppose, sometimes
i even fail to remember
what purpose oxygen serves in the human body.
my body was never a devoted follower
of the One above,
but my mind was.
was… but now…
it makes me a bit sad.
but isn’t history always a bit sad?
flaws are, after all,
virtues turned upside down.
i read once we tend to become
what we are called.
i am afraid
i could become nothing more
than a haunted memory.
funny, how i was never called
memorable or haunting.
keeping the blade aside, i walked out.
the world was too loud today.
i stood over the footbridge,
watching cars blur into nothing.
the wind carried a taste of fresh rain,
and for a moment,
it made me think
how the concrete never looked so soft before
soft enough
to rest.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 11:41 AM UTC
the silence in my room was suffocating,
it smelled like mold and dust
as i took the blade out again.
it looked better than other days,
looking kinder than most things do
a happy promise,
wearing a halo of relief.
it felt comforting, knowing
all it takes is letting it meet my skin.
i got tired of saying this, but
just because my grief isn’t loud
doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
it sits quietly,
heavy on my chest,
the gut-wrenching pain,
the guilt of not crying out loud,
the guilt of not screaming.
so i held my breath
as i forgot,
i suppose, sometimes
i even fail to remember
what purpose oxygen serves in the human body.
my body was never a devoted follower
of the One above,
but my mind was.
was… but now…
it makes me a bit sad.
but isn’t history always a bit sad?
flaws are, after all,
virtues turned upside down.
i read once we tend to become
what we are called.
i am afraid
i could become nothing more
than a haunted memory.
funny, how i was never called
memorable or haunting.
keeping the blade aside, i walked out.
the world was too loud today.
i stood over the footbridge,
watching cars blur into nothing.
the wind carried a taste of fresh rain,
and for a moment,
it made me think
how the concrete never looked so soft before
soft enough
to rest.
There is a French term called 'L’appel du vide.'
This phenomenon is when you are standing in front of a steep cliff and suddenly get an unexplainable desire to jump, or when you are crossing the road and think, “ah, if i jump in front of that rushing car, i would die.”
This phrase literally means 'the call of the void.' How fascinating, isn’t it?
