Literature
Hope...
People are calling, calling, my name? Or praises? Arguments, maybe? I don't know. All I know is that I want to dig up a hole in the earth and climb into it. To get away, from what? People, chatter? Myself? No, the world, everything and everyone.Why? I don’t know, I feel hollow or dead. No, not dead, people who feel dead are dead, see nothing but corpses in their reflections, feel nothing against insults, torture. I’m not dead, not yet just in the process or am I…?That forbidden D word, what was it? Something unspeakable to me, something only meant for the weak to wallow in guilt, self-pity and worthlessness; to extend that pathetic exist...