If it's possible for a place to be emptier today than yesterday, as if 'empty' was a spectrum and not a standard, then I would describe my heart as such a place. I feel as if I'm retreating into myself yet again; my heart is stirred by external forces, but ultimately remains hollow and lacking intrinsic motivations. Do I know what I want, and if I do, do I feel this way because I can't have what I want? Or do I want so many things at once it's tearing my sanity apart?
Some nights I wonder about these, while most days I don't. I can't explain the feelings of sorrow I feel sometimes. They wash over me while I'm on the train, they wash over me when a sad song plays. They wash my happy thoughts away when they do, leaving the rawness of the remaining melancholy. Could it be because home is where the heart is, and it's a little broken right now? That could be a plausible explanation, but it won't be the only one.
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