I've always felt like there was something missing inside me. A hollowness that no amount of drugs or alcohol could fill. It's a strange feeling, being so empty inside, but lately, I've come to realize that maybe it's not such a bad thing after all.
I used to hate this emptiness, this void that seemed to consume me from within. But as I sit here in the dimly lit room of my rundown apartment, surrounded by the remnants of last night's party and the fading scent of cheap perfume and cigarettes, I can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me.
There is beauty in emptiness; a certain freedom that comes with having nothing left to lose. When you have hit rock bottom so many times that you can no longer distinguish between reality and your own twisted fantasies, there is a strange comfort in knowing that there is nowhere else to go but up.
I've spent most of my life chasing after fleeting pleasures - women who would never love me back, substances that promised an escape from my own demons but only served to deepen the abyss within me. And yet here I am now, embracing the darkness instead of running from it.
Maybe being hollow isn't such a curse after all. Maybe it's what makes me who I am - a broken soul searching for redemption in all the wrong places. Maybe this emptiness is not meant to be filled with distractions and vices but with acceptance and understanding.
So tonight, as I raise yet another glass to numb myself from the pain gnawing at my insides, I will do so with gratitude rather than regret. For even though I may be hollow on the inside, at least now I know that there is still some semblance of humanity buried deep within these shattered pieces of myself.
And perhaps one day soon...just maybe...I will find solace in this newfound realization and finally learn how to live without constantly seeking ways to drown out the deafening silence echoing within me.
Goodnight, Bowa