She felt empty, not the dead kind of empty, where you feel nothing at all as if all your neurons abandoned firing sensory impulses to your brain. It was, at least according to her, the kind of emptiness that nags you with its presence, constanly reminding you that you have a void for a heart and a hole where it’s supposed to be.
She was drowning. At first she thought going with the flow was a good idea; just let the waves calmly take her wherever it is. Then the waves became more turbulent, colder. She felt it on her skin, making it prickle before freezing all her nerve endings. She feel it crush her lungs, making the air go out of her in gasp and water go in her in torrents. She fought to get her head above the water. She’s almost failing.
She felt broken. It was like listening to a broken vinyl record, but instead of the actual listening, you get to watch her repeat her days in an exact manner. It was almost robotic, or like a glitch that keeps on looping. She said it was better this way; habits almost kills all emotions, and that works for her. She don’t have time for pesky things such as emotions. So she plasters on this habitual smile on her face then go on her day without actually feeling it; just going through the motions.
She felt sad. It is as if an elephant decided ot would be swell to sit on her chest. Everything now was a trigger; a look, a photo, a word, they are all keys to the trunk of feelings she so desperately hid.