I’m empty from absence, and it’s a cold weight. The cold just kind of settles in my stomach like a stone, a boulder, a mountain. I am overtaken. I am overcome. It’s a numbness spreading, tinged with melancholy and a strange kind of grief.

My cheeks are damp before I’ve even realised I’m crying. I must look wretched. Everything seems hollow, void of any true meaning; nothing but a habit. Malicious thoughts slither like vipers through my brain, and there’s ice in my veins. Some part of me wants to give in to recklessness and to self destruction, because it would be the easier option. But fleeting, momentary relief will lead to devastation.

Next time you see me, I’ll be jumping with reckless abandon over the edge.