Emptied out

Her heart is hurting from an indescribable pain. There is a sadness, a sense of loss, like a foreboding of horrible things to come. It feels empty, like there is nothing more left there. The body feels like it’s been hollowed out and all that is there is an empty shell —useless, listless and lifeless. It’s like a pallor of gloom has descended and made its home in her heart, never ever going to leave; it’s found its perfect host. There is a bleakness that seems to proliferate with every passing day, infiltrating every action, every breath. Life seems to be the same, yet there is no more joy. A few moments of laughter seep in but there is no lilt to that tinkle, and the warmth of joviality doesn’t make it to the eyes. The eyes look haunted, like there is no more hope. They look guilty.

She tries to break free from this suffocating hold. She’s making an effort to be normal, and everything should feel normal, then why does it seem like there’s this constant pin-pricking somewhere in her heart. She should be feeling liberated, free of a burden she never wanted to carry, so why does she feel this restlessness. She never felt the joy when it existed, so why then does she feeling this pain, this anguish? She chose vanity over courage, an unsullied reputation over truthfulness. So why is she wracked with the feeling that something terrible has happened, that she’s torn and shredded something innocent within her.  She alone knows the truth, this is her cross to bear, her secret to keep.  She has to get over it, soon for her sanity. She has to live like it never happened even if she knows that her hands are soiled with the blood of an unborn child.