Back to writing

Who are you?

She asked him with that inquisitive look. 

Now I'm a zombie, he replied without the animosity he lost in last times. I feel I live without living. I know I wake up in the morning with the purpose of one more breadth one more time. The mission has been lost.  The time never ends besides the hours are moving one after the other. Until the end of the day, I miss consciousness. Sometimes drunk, sometimes not. I just need it to finish.

 I know I eat without tasting. I've lost the notion of surprise in the flavours, I die for new experiences without understanding the meaning of them. I look for the best, and I am trapped in moments I cannot distinguish. I live in the infinite grey area. I want to see without looking. There's no new in the changing times of before, the shining in the world is now opaque. I don't see the beauty anymore in something that can be beautiful by itself. I don't sing anymore. I don't play the piano. I don't hear the music. I feel without sensitivity, I just feel like a reflection. I don't write anymore...

Just keep writing she said, let the wound to bleed.