There were moments when you thought that you can easily rule over the world. You felt like you can take on anything, anytime, anywhere. You felt so invincible because you know where you stand. You know how you got there in the first place, and you know the things that you had to go through to get there.
You were so sure of yourself because you have built each and every brick around you as you created them. You laid the foundations, the virtues and goals of your existence, and started working your way around.
You created the world as you see it.
You took your time, but you were undeterred and carried on because you could already see how it would look like as you went along. You were so sure of yourself. It was going to be this. It was going to be that. Every decision you made were meant to result to things that you wanted. You went through a lot of pain and suffering, of failures and heartbreaks, and like chisels carving into your soul, they made you as who you are right now. And you could not be more pleased with yourself as you looked into the mirror because you have finally done it.
I have made myself, for myself.
But suddenly, you find yourself staring into blank space. No mirrors to confirm your existence, no walls to hold on to, no foundations to plant your feet on.
Nothing.
Having to rebuild everything again from scratch when you have exhausted everything already is just too much. Everything you have worked for are nowhere to be found. Even the roads disappeared and you do not know where to go from here anymore. This is more than just feeling lost. You can trace back your steps when you go astray. But you are stuck in a limbo: timeless, boundless emptiness. It suffocates your senses while you drown in your tears. The screams of your chest are not enough to shatter the hollowed space surrounding you. You feel exhausted, but not enough to make you drift to sleep, to rest, to your final rest.
Your body curved itself into a ball, a temporal embrace for yourself. You wish these will just go away when you wake up, but reality is more wicked than the stories you have read.
261 words