Fading Away
I’m vanishing, molecule by molecule, watching myself fragment in mirrors that no longer reflect,
A blur in the glass, a whisper that loses its grip–there’s no anchor, no reason left to connect
With the world I used to crave. Each day becomes another page torn out,
The ink fading, the story dissolving, the hunger for feeling replaced by doubt.
Memory used to be vivid, sharp as broken teeth–now it slips through my fingers,
Names I should know, faces that should matter, all washed gray as the numbness lingers.
I move through rooms as a shadow, not seen, not present,
Floating over carpets where I once knelt, searching for comfort, now resenting
Every impulse that wanted more. I stopped committing to hope, to love, to anything real,
Forgot what it meant to want, to burn, to feel.
I see the world at a distance–a window too thick to break–
Everyone else alive and thrashing, while I drift like smoke,
Unwilling or unable to wake.
It’s not depression, not exactly–just the slow erosion of wanting,
A silence that grows deeper with each promise I break, each chance I keep taunting.
Every night I count the losses: words unsaid, apologies not given,
Old ambitions I let die quietly, as if they were sins that couldn’t be forgiven.
I used to fight for my place, clawed through the wreckage of childhood,
Screamed for meaning, bled for connection, convinced survival would bring something good.
Now, every battle seems pointless, every dream hollow,
I let the future collapse–no energy to chase, no appetite for tomorrow.
There’s a numbness here, a thick darkness that insulates me from the sharpness of hope,
I let myself drift, a body in water too deep, lungs filling slowly as I stop trying to cope.
The world keeps spinning, laughter and tragedy, but it never pierces this shell,
I’m fading, losing touch, watching my story unravel–no hero, no warning bell.
Friends ask if I’m okay, if I need anything, but their voices sound far away,
I nod, I lie, I vanish–fading is easier than trying to stay.
Inside, the old passions are gone–no art, no hunger, no fight,
Just the echo of someone I almost remember, a flicker snuffed out by endless night.
I used to believe pain was proof of life,
That heartbreak meant I still gave a damn,
But now even pain feels foreign, a rumor from another land.
I miss the days I could scream, when even the anger felt holy,
Now silence is my only friend, numbness my only comfort,
And the rest of me just folds quietly, slowly, into what I never wanted to be.
I’m a ghost haunting my own body, a question mark inside a face no one reads,
The flame is gone, the wires are cut–just noise, just fatigue.
I call out, but the world doesn’t answer; I drift, but no one pulls me back,
In this hush, every fear is justified–every hope just another attack.
I used to try to stay–now I let myself go,
Turning to dust in my own hands,
Fading until nothing remains but the ache
Of everything I lost, everything I never could show.