Disclaimer:
Everything to do with Evangelion belongs to GAINAX; everything else belongs to whoever thinks they own it.
To be able to convey at least even a minute gist of the feelings of depression, I felt that a typical narrative style would not suffice to do so. What follows is an anthology of poetry, as far as I can tell. A single-author anthology.
Or at least what I think will become such.
Of Note
Written by William Wong
One
It's empty.
The room is empty. I am not in it.
I am not here.
Where am I?
It is three-thirty in the morning and the room is empty.
I see nothing.
I see, and I see it is nothing.
Why bother to look(?)
I am supposed to hear songs. But I can't. I am not here. I cannot hear.
I hear, and I hear it is nothing.
The words are nothing. The music is empty.
Where am I?
I am supposed to be here.
But I'm not.
I am empty.
I am here, and I am nothing.
The room is empty.
Why bother to listen(?)
Why bother to be here(?)
It is four o'clock in the morning and the room is empty.
No, it will never stop being empty.
I've had enough. I hate emptiness.
But my hate is...
It's quiet. It's still. So much nothing is happening. The song ends.
The song begins. LILLA. That's so familiar.
The room is blue.
It is dark, but it is blue.
Dark blue.
Do I see something? I saw and I still see. My room. That's so familiar.
Futon. Carpet. Picture. Pot plants. So familiar. So still.
Me. So familiar.
It is dark, but it is still.
Dark still.
The song ends.
I am supposed to hear songs, but I can't. The songs are not here. The tape has stopped.
It has stopped.
It has stopped.
The tape has stopped.
I hear...
nothing.
I hear nothing.
Where am I?
There is nothing.
The words are nothing. The music is nothing.
There is nothing.
Where am I?
I see nothing.
I see, and I see that it is nothing.
There is nothing.
There is nothing.
The room is empty.
I am not here.
The room is empty.
I see and hear nothing.
The room is empty.
I am here.
The room is empty.
I am not here.
The room is supposed to be empty.
The room is empty.
I am here and I am empty.
There's nothing.
There's nothing.
I'm nothing.
There's nothing.
It is four-ten in the morning.
It's empty.
Notes:
This was written from three-thirty in the morning.
Full summary:
I am somewhat in a depression, myself, currently. However, instead of letting it impress a big void of nothingness into my creative life for indefinitely, I've decided to utilize it for writing something to pay homage to Evangelion with, of course, the theme of depression in mind, hopefully as a step towards recovering. Perhaps it has been the only thing on my mind.