Numb

     I am numb. I'm not quite sure how I got this way. I know the path I walked to get here, I'm just not sure where along the way I lost my ability to feel. I miss emotion. I miss smiles spreading across my face and staying for hours. I miss excitement. I miss not being able to sit still. The hyperactivity that was annoying to most and scary to some. I miss love. The way it would keep me up at night and keep my mouth running for so long people couldn't stand it and when finally confronted by it, I froze. Speech silenced and breathing stopped. But as strange as it sounds, most of all I miss sadness. The cold tears streaming down my face, smudging the ink of half finished songs. Without sadness, or rather the fear of it, there are no other emotions. In order to be happy, you have to know sadness. Happiness is the feeling of appreciating the moment of reprieve before life decides to bombard you with rejection and death and failure. If sadness doesn't effect you, there's no reason to hold on to anyone because when they're gone you will hardly care. Happiness and love both stem from the incredible emotion of sadness we have all been trained to fear. Without it, all that is left is indifference and anger. I am a perpetually angry human being but  my indifference holds it back. I am a stick of dynamite lit from both ends but no one can see it. I'm going to explode eventually and the wonderful thing is that no one will stop me because no one will have prepared because they can't see it.  Anger gets so stale after two years though. I'm not depressed but I'm still suicidal. I still want to die. This may sound confusing but if you were me you'd understand. I'm not motivated by loneliness or depression. I'm motivated by boredom. Life is so uninteresting without smiles or tears. I'm curious about the other side, about what waits for me after this life is over. As boring as life is though, my death has been stalled. I cried a few days ago. Two tears from my left eye and one from my right. Someone lead me back to the beginning of my path and made me walk it all over again. She sparked another curiosity that can't be satisfied if I'm no longer alive. How was she able to do that? How many people have the ability to make people relive their entire lives simply by writing? I've decided to stay just long enough to find out.