#nofeelings - Hello Poetry

I want to hide it, bury it somewhere deep inside me where nobody can touch it, where even I can’t find it anymore. But it disappeared on its own. And somehow, feeling nothing is a little too overwhelming. It’s strange how emptiness can still feel heavy enough to crush your chest. One moment I was hurting, crying until my bones ached, and the next… everything shut off. Like someone reached inside my mind and pulled the plug. No warning. No goodbye. Just silence. Now I sit here wondering if it’ll come back harder one day. If all those emotions I locked away are waiting behind some invisible door, ready to break through me like a flood that was never meant to stay contained. Would it drown me? Would I survive it? Because sometimes I can still feel it underneath. Not fully gone— just sleeping. And that terrifies me. I hate that this is the only way my body knows how to survive. To disconnect. To detach. To shut off pieces of my soul like they were never alive to begin with. The scary part is… I didn’t even try to do it. It happened automatically. Like my body got tired of carrying grief and built its own emergency exit. A healing mechanism, maybe. Or maybe just another way of dying slowly. Because now I walk through life not feeling anything fully. Smiles feel borrowed. Laughter sounds distant. Love touches me but never reaches deep enough anymore. I don’t ache the same way I used to, but I don’t breathe the same either. And sometimes I miss the pain because at least pain reminded me I was still alive. Now I just exist. Quietly. Numbly. Like I’m gasping for air underwater but nobody can see me drowning. I don’t miss those feelings. At least I tell myself that. But maybe the truth is I wish I could feel something again, even if it destroyed me.

0

May 11

May 11, 2026 at 10:05 AM UTC

Kat14

Turn it off part 2

I want to hide it, bury it somewhere deep inside me where nobody can touch it, where even I can’t find it anymore. But it disappeared on its own. And somehow, feeling nothing is a little too overwhelming. It’s strange how emptiness can still feel heavy enough to crush your chest. One moment I was hurting, crying until my bones ached, and the next… everything shut off. Like someone reached inside my mind and pulled the plug. No warning. No goodbye. Just silence. Now I sit here wondering if it’ll come back harder one day. If all those emotions I locked away are waiting behind some invisible door, ready to break through me like a flood that was never meant to stay contained. Would it drown me? Would I survive it? Because sometimes I can still feel it underneath. Not fully gone— just sleeping. And that terrifies me. I hate that this is the only way my body knows how to survive. To disconnect. To detach. To shut off pieces of my soul like they were never alive to begin with. The scary part is… I didn’t even try to do it. It happened automatically. Like my body got tired of carrying grief and built its own emergency exit. A healing mechanism, maybe. Or maybe just another way of dying slowly. Because now I walk through life not feeling anything fully. Smiles feel borrowed. Laughter sounds distant. Love touches me but never reaches deep enough anymore. I don’t ache the same way I used to, but I don’t breathe the same either. And sometimes I miss the pain because at least pain reminded me I was still alive. Now I just exist. Quietly. Numbly. Like I’m gasping for air underwater but nobody can see me drowning. I don’t miss those feelings. At least I tell myself that. But maybe the truth is I wish I could feel something again, even if it destroyed me.