Nanaslastcig

Andy // She/They // 20 // In Search For Something

[nanaslastcig]

Lingering

I have spent my whole life lingering. I am waiting for something, because something is coming. Something surely must be coming.  

I believe this to be limbo, for there is nothing but myself and the crushing weight of the vast emptiness around me, and it threatens to consume me.

Though I fear that it already has. I feel the hollowness of the space creeping into my pores and making home in my body. It sits beneath my ribs, carving out a space for itself. I have become one with the emptiness around me.

Time has slowed, past and present and future forming as one. Time does not exist in the hollow cave where by body resides.

I have found that my whole life has been one, big long string of distractions. It pulls my body along. I watch my legs and feet move through the arrow of time, lingering in spaces I am not welcome. I bide my time, waiting for something which I do not know.

What is this?

Why am I still alive?

I believe I am already dead. I believe I am already dead and I am petrified.

-A.S.

[nanaslastcig]

The Pit

Searching, searching, constantly searching for something. What are we searching for? I do not know, for I have always been on the hunt, on the prowl. It is in my nature. I have always remembered it this way. I have never stopped to think, however, what am I hunting? What makes me keep pushing on and moving and searching. The search. I see others searching around me.

What are we searching for?

Everywhere I go, others are searching. In the desolate, in the dry, in the wet, in the abundant, constantly searching. 

Scanning my surroundings, digging through the Earth, looking up in the sky, what am I searching for? I think I lost something, maybe. Trying to put it back in its place in me. But what did I lose? What part of me is missing? I cannot remember what I lost, what part of me needs fixing, what part of me needs filling. 

I cut myself open and dig around past the meat and the flesh and the fat, but everything is in tact. But that doesn’t feel right. Something is still missing! But what am I missing? I cut and cut and cut deeper just to see if I can find what needs filling, what needs to be put back together, but in the end it’s just my body that needs to be put back together from my desolate efforts. 

What am I searching for? Something to fill the thing that I cannot find. I cannot find what I am searching for and I cannot find the thing that needs to be filled. What a pitiful dilemma. 

So I walk and walk and walk and walk through the dry and the desolate and the wet and the abundant in search for the thing to fill what I cannot describe. 

-A.S.