Going Blank

I am emotionless. Indifferent.
Looking at myself, I see a physical being...but feel nothing.
I blink, I breathe. But no thoughts run through my mind, or trail around in little circles throughout my inner walls.
I am empty; unearthed; like I'm uprooted, in a way.
I feel, if anything, like I am just watching myself from a distance, or following close behind.
I've gone blank.
 
I no longer feel the fire that sparks within the soul.
In my eyes the light is gone.
Looking within them I see black bottomless pits that spiral around; the story that was once unfolded behind them has been taken, thrashed about, and flit from the memory.

I cannot call this person staring back at me myself.
Even though I am shown differently, I feel that the truth is mistaken.
How can this person, full of past anger and hate, be the young creature once perceived as a mixture of happiness, solitude, and stability?

The mind once holding supposed brilliance is contained with despair.
The young girl peering back at me seems to be lost or dazed, imagining she is within another strange galaxy where she can find herself.
But her entity lingers as if searching for something.
Griping for the past. For what once was and never will be.
How can such a feeling of loss and unfathomable emptiness be described or perceived to one who does not contribute and hang on every word?

It's as if my past self, who's calm and carefree, is simply staring back at me from the eyes of this new empty hopeless fool.
The entity of life and emotion dwelling there has stopped rattling her cages and given up hope.
She is now just another glimmering streak to float about throughout the center of all thoughts and be forgotten.
Walking the same path as done every day seems like a morbid crime. Futile, if you will.
Doing so would be nothing more than a dent in the ways of this hopeless lunatic.

What is there to be seen? To be visualized?
Not a single blessed thing.
Where is the energy and vitality that once pulsed from within such young and vital veins of this innocent young woman?
Has she discovered a nonexistent fate?
An add on to this madness?
It is a brutal crime done to oneself.

And she will not tire or awake from this haze until someone from the light of positivity and optimism can reach her.
They may clutch her by her strings and make her move, for she is just a being freshly without soul.
No empathy for anyone including herself.

The crank on her back has turned one time too many, and she has given up.
She has stopped point blank in the path that was headed for the future and slumped over.
Where to go now?
It is almost as if there was a magnet in the core of this emptiness pool.
And now she must be pulled free.
Warm and joyful memories glide by and leave, but there is no urge to smile.

When will this person staring back at me succumb this brutal cycle?
She is not one to know, for she is a warp of empty.