The Piece of Monochrome Melancholy

It seems as if these days, I wake every morning engulfed in feeling like someone has mistakenly thrown me into a mass grave of broken hearts.

It's not a mistake in the sense that I don't wield a broken heart; it's a mistake because my heart fled from me of yore.

Truthfully, for such a thing to happen, it was destined since the beginning of my time. Neglecting the heart and all the burdens that it came bearing made life tolerable. I have always lived by drifting but never detaching, gruesomely indulging in thinking through my feelings like a greedy glutton. The things my heart would scream at me were constantly littering my vessel. Each time I'd toss them to the side one by one, effortlessly shoving down to drown them out. The mess it left within me was an unbearable sight, and I refused for the chaos to carve its path to the surface of self.

Eventually, the abhorrent screams steadily contorted themselves into murmurs drifting across the air. On one occasion, they even appeared as bubbles, naturally alluring to my eyes until I witnessed they popped with no visible differences.

Until one day, I noticed whispers barely grazing by. "Forgive me" was the last phrase my heart spoke before vanishing. It was entirely unbeknownst that my hope decided to travel down that same path.

A year has flown by grudgingly since then. What a strange life I live these days. My heart and hope lie somewhere far beyond the horizon that I've still yet to find the courage to face. Heaven and hell rejected me, locking me within the unknown void in between that is my life.

Indeed, it must be a mistake. Waking up a hollowed shell every morning, living comfortably with no heart to feel too much and no hope to rely upon, should be utterly void of any meaning for me to become one of the shattered.

At least, that's what I've always reassured myself. The days where I watch myself live as if I'm on autopilot, I'm a side character in my own story. The side character who everybody likes, yet unknowingly loved by none. One who isn't as fleshed out as those surrounding them but continues to do the next right thing as a human being should.

Possessing no heart or hope doesn't always result in a bitter, almost failed human being. It just regards life wholly in greyscale. The muted colors of life I could barely recognize faded into the monochromatic expression it stands as now.

Nonetheless, the other side of the same coin reveals itself blank, just as barren as the void I inhabit. Songs that used to shake the very core of my soul lay elusive far off in the distance behind. Simple chocolate cake that used to be so flavorsome to the extent it was overbearing now fills my mouth with an essence compared to mushy, soddened cardboard. I will watch the sunset, knowing people say it's a magnificent ending to each day of this life, leaving me lacking the ability to feel through the vitality the sun delivers.

Perhaps the prolonged absence of heart and hope has forced me to bedevil myself to replace what my heart used to stand for. Despite eternally believing the nature and in which it lives is afflicted and flawed, the last words whispered to me remain to echo internally.

Admittedly, I often find myself wondering what such simple yet thundering words entailed. In the instance it happened, my mind swooped into the rescue. It began pushing sudden downloads of various reasonings that stood invisible to the naked eye and into my view to judge. Once more, I fell into allowing myself to be guided by granting thought the upper hand authority. Accordingly, so to emanate a stable condition in life just as I've always intended.

After journeying through what my mind concocted up for me, I'm only able to grasp a vast nothingness. Powerless to discern whether I have no future or that my future is undecided, I blunder to unearth any sort of sense from the situation. In the end, simply put, I give up.

Completely void of any hint they'll come back, I trudge onward in life. As the end of my ego awaits me, I will dawdle amongst this world, free of feeling emotional hindrances and living next to the absence of a divine purpose. Thankful to my monochrome view, I will wait patiently for the two to return home. Come what may is condemned to the shadow behind me as I face the sun. For the day we find one another is a day we'll witness a sunset together. Maybe we'll even talk things out and discover a new path to walk down.

Until then, sunsets will incessantly be grey, and my life wields no color.