head empty

a journal entry

it started a few days ago—maybe a week, but time feels blurry. ever since the falling-out with my aunts and grandmother, i think. somewhere between the clash and the silence that followed, something inside me dulled.

i haven’t really been overthinking it. at least not in the way i usually do, letting thoughts pile up until they drown me. i braced myself for stressful, sleepless nights, but that didn’t happen this time. after the second day, my brain just… let it sit. i didn’t chase after the thoughts, didn’t drown in them. but i still feel like i’m sinking. the weight sits in my chest, not my head, pressing down without words or reason.

not in an obvious, dramatic, falling-apart way. but in a slow, painfully unremarkable way. i just feel off. i don’t feel sad exactly, but everything feels slightly more bitter. life isn’t bad right now, but it isn’t kind either. it just exists, and i exist in it.

i don’t feel like talking, not even to the people i love the most. my favorite people are being met with half-hearted responses, cold shoulders, and silence that i don’t mean to give. i hate this version of me. i don’t mean to push them away, but i can’t seem to reach for them either. it’s not even that i have things to say and choose not to—my mind just feels devastatingly blank.

it’s a little unnerving. my mind usually runs faster than my mouth can speak. my thoughts tumble over each other in a rush to be felt and recognized. even in my stillness, there’s motion. but it’s silent now. vacant.

i can’t say i enjoy the quiet. it makes me feel like a stranger to myself. and i feel like i lack substance. i can’t help but feel boring without access to constant buzzing thoughts—fragments of conversations, unfinished ideas, half-formed worries. i always had a lot to say. i keep waiting for the noise to return.

i hope i wake up and the weight is gone. i miss the warmth already.