I lack emotion. I don't know if I simply do not have the capacity, or if my anathema has finally taken it's toll on me. Whatever the reason, my ability to feel is hindered...I am indifferent, even apathetic to my surroundings, those around me, and even my closest companions. I have managed to sever myself from the web that held me, made me feel safe...comfortable. And I do this to myself, sometimes, I think...I am the child freezing in the cold when someone stands not 5 feet away, a door to a wam house open, begging me to come inside and be warm. I cannot do it. I turn my back, and embrace the cold, bitterly cursing the kindness offered to me. I try so much to find a sense of happiness for other's sake...to alieviate some of the self-blame I know they feel for my misery, because I feel it too. I feel it as steadily I turn them into me, I leech away their uplifting spirits, their laughter and smiles, sucking them deeply into wherever this dark abyss in me leads. And when I have had my fill, I leave them to themselves, and the uncomfortable journey ahead as they strive to return to how they were before.

But that is not possible...Not on the roads I set them to.

I see myself doing it...pushing away emotional, hell, even physical attention, in lieu of my growing indifference. I'm tired of feigning enjoyment, where before, it came whether I wanted it or not, the rare days when a smile lit my face, reaching my eyes for a long moment before it bubbled back under the unstable ground of my mental plane. ~sighs~ I keep hoping it will pass, it will just fade on it's own. But it doesn't...Gods help me, it doesn't. So further in I dig, searching for the root to tear out this horrible feeling, only to find that it's roots are too deeply set to remove entirely. So my choices are seemingly equal in disaster...I could ignore this hideous thing growing in my soul, choking my heart in it's facade of desperation and wanting. Or I could simply tear out my heart and pick it clean of all traces of these damnable Eternal roots, leaving a limp, empty, bloody shell behind to continue with this mundane and bitter existence. Neither is acceptable, for I'm sure I require that heart to be in tact for one reason or another...Divine beings don't look too kindly on the removal of organs from one's human shell, I'd imagine.

I've gathered, that at this point, I have defined myself as a sort of precious doll...something lovely to look at, but mustn't touch, mustn't play with it...it could break, so leave her on that high-up shelf, only take her down when you absolutely have to...otherwise she might break. But little does the outside world know, we dolls wish to break. We live for the sound of shattering porcelain as one of our comrades plummets from their pedastal, obliterating themselves face first against the cold, hard reality of things. Have I thought about making the dive myself? Of course I have...find me a Doll who hasn't day-dreamed about what it must be like, how it feels, the rush...Makes me shiver just thinking about it.

It always makes me smile to think that happiness is just a chemical imbalance in the brain...It a false euphoria. As is the concept of love, another facade of an emotion. When simply it is your mind and body playing a vicious trick on you...Save yourself the time, just sit down with a chocolate IV, you'll get the same results in the end.

Heartburn, disappointment, and a fat ass.