Life is grey and meaningless.
Lifeless, I feel lifeless.
I look in the mirror and I don’t see myself. I see a shell. Someone who resembles me. But she’s not me.
There is no life in her eyes. There is no joy.
She lives and yet she doesn’t live.
Emptiness and hollowness is what she feels.
Numbness too.
Numb to all the laughter and merriment around her. Numb to seeing others enjoy and revel in life.
Numb even to the new life that grows within her. Desperate as she is to rejoice, to feel the same excitement that she did last year, she is helpless to do so.
I see her withdrawing from life itself – from conversations, from work, from people, from ministry, from friendships, from relationships. Because it all just seems to meaningless.
And as she withdraws, she realises she is trapped.
Trapped in a life where there seems to be no meaning or purpose. Where there is no desire and no motivation. Where there is no joy and no laughter.
Some believe that this detachment is the answer to suffering. The reality is that it does nothing to ease suffering, because to be so detached is to suffer.
And so I continue to watch her as she suffers. And I cry as I do so.
Silently I cry.
She is lost.
She is gone.
She is no more.