the first thing you notice is the stillness. there’s no hum of life, no flicker of movement, only an overwhelming silence that stretches beyond the horizon of your mind. the world, it seems, is waiting. holding its breath.
you prayed for it, didn’t you? you asked for something to hold, some presence to guide you. some force greater than your frail, insignificant self. you called out for help, for comfort, for a reason.
and he answered. or at least, that’s what you thought. he came to you in dreams at first, a whispering shadow at the edge of your vision, comforting you with promises of purpose, with words like “beloved,” “chosen,” and “belonging.”
you were not alone anymore. you felt his gaze. his presence wrapped around you, like a mother’s embrace, pulling you out of the darkness. and for a while, it was enough. the weight of his existence was a balm to your wounds, a soothing touch to the hollow space inside your chest.
but now?
now you can feel him slipping away, little by little, like sand running through your fingers, though you’re doing everything you can to hold onto him. the whispers grow more distant. the warmth that once flooded your soul has turned cold, and you’re left with nothing but a gnawing emptiness.
you wake up one morning and he’s gone. not in the sense of physical absence—no, he is still there. in the same way that an object can be in a room, but not present, he lingers in the space around you, in the very air you breathe. his absence is suffocating, a void so deep that it pulls at the fabric of reality itself.
you reach for him, desperate, crying out into the silence, begging for his voice, for the touch of his reassurance. but nothing answers.
you wait. days stretch into weeks, into months, and still, you wait. you scream at the sky, hoping for some sign, any sign of his return. you build altars in your room, carve his name into the walls, desperate for a response.
and then, finally, one day, when you think the madness will overtake you, there’s a whisper. a flicker of a presence—just for a second, but it’s enough to make your pulse quicken.
you throw yourself to the ground, prostrate before the hollow space, ready to accept him back. he’s back. he must be. after all, the whispers never truly stop, they’re just faint. and faint whispers are all you need to feel his gaze again. but when you open your eyes, it’s not the reassuring figure you were expecting.
instead, you see... a reflection. in the black, empty sky. his eyes—no, they’re not his. they are cold, empty sockets, like the void itself. and they stare down at you. not with love. not with warmth. but with indifference. the eyes of something that has forgotten what it was to feel.
the world around you cracks. the earth splits open and you realize, too late, that there is nothing beneath your feet. there’s no safe place, no solid ground. just the infinite dark that expands beyond your understanding. you stumble, and fall, and reach out, but there’s nothing to hold.
nothing to hold.
you scream for him again. for the comforting voice. for the embrace. but the hollow eyes continue to stare—empty, unwavering, and silent. you see nothing but the empty gaze of something that never truly cared for you. never truly existed.
there is no answer. there will never be an answer.
your heartbeat begins to race, and your chest tightens with a panic so profound that it feels like your insides are being torn apart. you realize now, with clarity, that he was never there to begin with. the whispers you heard? they were just echoes of your own longing. the gaze you felt? it was nothing but the reflection of your desperation.
you were abandoned before you even knew you were lost. and the worst part is, you can still feel it. the emptiness is inside you now, in every breath, in every thought, in the spaces where the world once had meaning.
the emptiness stretches out before you, and you realize there’s nowhere left to go. you’ve been abandoned by a god who never existed, and now, you are left with nothing.
the silence grows, and you scream into it. but the silence doesn’t care. it never will.