The Opportunist!

I've struggled for years with this feeling I called emptiness. It was an interesting choice of words to describe my disposition for how could I feel empty when the very reason I felt empty was because there were no feelings all. Oh, but emptiness carries weight and pushes itself against the linings like the clouds about to burst into tears. This weight. My heart. I ache. I carry it around like a vessel, sheltered within my breastbone it sits and holds this nostalgic air. I wait around for the winds to pull something back in, a trap to make it mine again, something that I can call my own, something to make me fulfilled. But the empty vessel is not necessarily bad. I can throw in the dirt from my disgrace and plant the seeds she spit from her womb beside me. They're my potentials. What never was and what could have been. I can grow the prettiest flowers in there. I can choose what fills. I can make myself useful.

Reviews

[Britanie]

This is beautiful. Your writing is brilliant.