Of Wanting

I don't know what I want. But I have this painful nagging feeling that tugs at my heart. It's like somethings missing, like something is incomplete.
A void.
A void that refuses to be filled.
Sometimes, I want to cry. I want to scream, to shout, and to rip apart my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, till they are no more.
I want to be emotionless, thoughtless, sightless, but then that means I'll be blind, senseless and defenseless. I don't want a heart, for it will only be broken and fall apart. It will only cause me to weaken, and subdue to wretched emotions.
I want everything to nothing at all.
I want eyes that are unassuming, not ones that are windows to my suffering soul. Look at my hands, they are shaking, with a life that they stole.
Perhaps my own?
Yes, my life.
Stolen, by yours truly, I can't believe I was such a fool, I didn't think this throughly.
My mind is a complete mess, puzzle piece gallore, filled with images and words; pictures obscured.
Now I don't expect you to understand, to see how effed up I am. But promise me one thing.
You won't judge me.
Did you promise? If you did...
Darling, you lied.