feeling empty - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I was feeling empty for a while, then I let sunshine and birdsong begin to fill my tank. My old passions and interests began to spark, and in time my motor kicked into life again. I guess I needed to learn how to fill myself up before I could hit the road and seek vistas new.
Feeling empty and feeling tired have such a strong connection to one another that I need to fully rest before I can figure out what is what.
Feeling empty is the invitation to refill your soul with whatever brings you joy and a sense of purpose. What fills you up?
Of course you're empty; where's your safe harbour, away from the gales and the storms? Where is the fuel you need to fill up? Do you pause for love, healthy food and vibrant bouquets of dreams? To be healthy, there must be nurture. So come on, my love, let us refill and rest as kindred souls. Love has need to flow, in isolation it becomes nothing at all.
I feel like a ghost in a world of paper dolls. I am the ghost in my own machine. I am a ghost running through time and space, looking, always looking in the blackness for a sacred spark. And all this world becomes noise, a distraction from my task to find the one - the one who went alone into the dark. For should all he be is a fragment of fire, barely a cinder, it matters not, because I will become a river of gasoline.
There is a silence to my soul; I am fall leaves under frost. I feel the chill in my blood, coldness bringing the synapses of my brain to a stand still. Part of it is a pain, yet one I can endure, one I can sleep through night after night without the anaesthesia of false hope. This is my winter; I wait for spring and the chattering of the birds.
I have always been a giver, warm and loving. Even as a child I never cried, seeking to make others happy. Often people sought me in times of trouble and I gave all I had - my whole heart and showered love upon them. By age nine adults leant on me, told me of their woes and I was their spark of light. Yet when my time to suffer came, when my world was a hurricane of ice, every light but one switched off. All but one offered a skinny love, shallow and brief, before finding a reason to excuse their flight. But maybe that's the way it had to be, one light to follow, no choice but to walk toward love and truth. Perhaps the road toward heaven feels like hell. Because I can tell you I never felt more empty in mind, body or soul, never so bereft of any comfort. I have never felt so worthless or disposable, never so wretched and cold. For hours I would have no emotion, only an urge to move fast; then all at once I'd be on the floor, shaking with a grief that bled from my bones. Days became weeks and months, and in every single moment of every single day my soul asked God why I must still live. He said, "Because I love you, daughter, and you will do great things. So live, breathe, walk." Moments of emptiness still come like an ambush, yet in company of a true friend a real smile can return, a real laugh, real warmth. I can't give much yet, I'm still too empty, but at least now I know who to give it to. I know who is safe.