Emptiness inside. Hollow and alone. Maybe I was meant to be this way, but I don't like this. I never will. Some part of me hopes that someday, sometime soon, that void will be filled. Will it? Because the void is not one of apathy, not something I can ignore. It is a void that keeps me incomplete, and the bleak nothingness glares at me like the shine of sunlight off metal. Except that there is no real glare. No, there can be none, or it would be too much to bear. Time and again the feeling has been suppressed, and for time and again still it will continue to be.

Whether you hear me or not makes no difference. I have said my piece.