I have a confession. I feel empty.Like I've been struck down with the burden of keeping myself afloat as if I were in the middle of water. 
What is this cruel fate?

When I sleep, it feels like purgatory. When I eat, it's my last meal. When I think of the things I've lost, no remorse and no regret of the past, just fear of the future.
But why? Why should I victimize myself when there's so much to be done? Why should I sting myself in the shoulder when I know the heart's the best place to ensure demise? Why should I consider myself lucky when I'm told bad news when I know it's only a matter of time before I'm next? 
There's mo more thoughts in my brain that I can feel.

Tangible emotion.

I've lost it, I can't touch what I feel anymore. Love, sex, anger, sadness, death, abuse. All foreign to me as if I've not been an attempt of a guinea pig to each and every one of them.
I don't even know myself, even as I read these words, they look to be in another language, I can only see what I'm typing, I can't feel it. 

Only.

I realize that though I'm not, I'm alone in this world, maybe not in number, but certainly in spirit and thought. I haven't an associate that I can speak frank to, and each relative has a certain speech with me: a certain voice and certain word usage. Some consider that to be fake, I consider it to be me.
But alas, I have lost my way on my path, my mind and soul now belong to the abyss that swirls uncontrollably spiraling downward, landing me face-down on the floor of endless falling.
Where am I? What am I? I guess when my decent is finished, I may finally find my answers in the pits of time, the pits of the beginning, the pits of my own creation...
The Pit of the abyss in my consciousness.