Void.

I looked up at my ceiling, which had neon stars and planets pasted on it. A chill ran through me and I sighed, although winter still remained my favourite season. A drop of tear strolled down my face, and I breathed. Most days were like this. Most days consisted of me feeling empty, at the same time feeling like thoughts of the entire universe had jewelled my brain. I felt all I didn't want to, and it felt like it was choking me. 

I remembered all the times I'd looked at myself in the mirror, rubbed my hands on my belly and wished to not have my body. Or the times when I'd brushed my hair, only to disgust myself with all the hair that came out. The times when I'd stand in a crowd and still end up feeling so lonely my heart felt heavy. And the times when they said,''He's better than you, honestly. She's smarter than you.'' I'd lived under the shadows of comparison, of lowering self-esteem, sudden flashbacks of moments that were equal to absolutel shit, or utterly livid. 

Most days were like this. Plain, intense and everything that I was. They were me, so full of me. I felt me. I felt what I had become even when I didn't like it. It was raw, everything I was and had and contained. It was me. It was the shout in the void; but on some days it was the void itself.