What I Couldn’t Fill

An empty glass — not half full, but completely empty. I don’t know what it was, but that emptiness felt like something… something I had felt before.

I couldn’t help but imagine that glass as something living, not full, but wanting more.

So I started to fill it — I kept pouring, until the water rushed out, overflowing endlessly.

But even then, it still didn’t feel full to me.

It didn’t take me long to understand that it wasn’t the glass that was bothering me… it was me.

Because seeing that empty glass made me realize something I didn’t want to admit — that the glass was me.

And no matter how hard I try — to distract my mind, to socialize, to stay happy —

I will always be that empty glass sitting right there on the table.