Then you look deep down and it's empty. Someone drank the last of your drink, consumed the last of your overwhelming shadows, and burnt out the last of your candles.

It's just you now.

Deep down all you have is a void, a bubble, floating around waiting for someone to poke it, to remind it of what it's like to feel blessed again. So you decide to think positively, make the best out of things, look at the half full glass… You start grabbing things from your mind to fill up the empty gap, to make best out of the volume, the space, the lot big enough to build a castle for you to hide…

You grab an old pencil you used to write in a 15 year old diary. You grab an old tape, email print outs you had framed and hung on the walls of your heart, a new age CD, a promotion letter, a picture of the two of you together, words she once whispered to your ears… Fill it alllll up ol' champ. 'It gets better', you convince yourself as you dig deeper, moving the dust from one part of your body to another… until there's no more room to fill.

All excited you run to the mirror to witness the new and improved you, but as you stare down at yourself your smile begins to wane. All the pencils, paper, whispers, and dust couldn't fill the void that your soul left behind; they will never write, sing, dance, or whisper the same way your soul did… and the glass'll remain half empty no matter how many pints of blood you pour in it.

Nothing's changed. It's been too long you wonder if you'll ever fully heal, if your soul will ever grow again.

It is, by all means, just you now no matter how many words you manage to pull on to a stupid blog page that no one reads.