Empty

"Will I always feel this way? So empty, so estranged?" -Ray Lamontagne.
I wonder this today. Can't quite put my finger on why. --- seems to think its just nerves, waiting so anxiously for my near future to be secure. I suppose that's part of it, but I can't think that it's the only reason. After all, it's only a job, only money. Sure, that's important. But I know I could live happily without money, I've done it before... only there were many other things in my life at the time for me to be happy, content with. And, of course, I had hope then... about a blissful future with another human, a special human, that would share the days, the nights with me, happily. These days, that fervent hope, that burning hope, that once fueled my desire to be, my lust for life... well let's just call it wishful thinking. A tiny coal clinging weakly to the last traces of warmth. I find myself panicking, on the occasions that I allow myself to think of it. No, panic doesn't quite describe the sensation. More of a deep ache tearing away at the fibers of my chest. The nagging realization that hope never allowed to surface before. The suffocating loneliness, emptiness that overwhelms me, forcing deep ragged breaths in attempt to stifle the pain. I am able to get this feeling under control, to bury it for a time. And when I do life is a little easier to bear... only the emptiness is a constant. The other emotions that used to come so easily, joy, content, compassion... these go down with the pain. It seems I have forgotten how to feel, somehow become inhuman. And this, of course, makes me very nervous. What if, one day, this empty me becomes the only me? What if, this really is all there is for me? Somehow, this thought does not really surprise me. And that, in itself, is unnerving as well.