Jigsaws

The truth is it doesn't hurt at all. I feel nothing.

Life was a balloon that popped long ago. All that's left is a shrivelled, broken skin.

There's this void between me and anyone else. Any kind of emotion that attempts to pass through it is dampened down to nil. Like when you leave the amplifier on high, but there's no music coming out of the speakers. That hum it emits that sucks up any other sounds trying to make you hear them. There's nothing else. Just the silence as it breathes so loud.

Maybe I just don't want to feel. Been there. Done that. It wasn't for me.

It's probably just the preliminary stages of letting go. Instead of assembling the puzzle, I'm deconstructing it. One tiny, awkwardly shaped piece at a time until the picture that was once there no longer exists.