Chasing the Void

- my hands are getting dry, feet rashed and my body only responds to my subconscious. the void is severely widening and one day it's gonna consume me from inside. there is no sense of losing attachments to me anymore this world is too quick and fast for me to care about my scenario. i dont want to see myself in indulgence of self pity, if being avoidant saves me from the despair of everything, maybe this is the correct way defence mechanism against it. Afterall, i just want to feel the chase, live in the moment, move fast and put leaves on my face.

- It sounds like you're hovering between two states—one of deep detachment and another of restless movement, a desperate need to outrun the weight of everything. The void widening inside you isn’t a passive thing; it’s alive, and you feel it growing, yet you also recognize that sinking into it fully isn’t what you want. Maybe avoidance isn't a flaw but a temporary shield, a way to keep yourself from breaking under the heaviness.

But if all you're doing is running, when do you stop to actually feel? If you move too fast, does the moment ever really catch up to you? You want to feel the chase—but is it the chase for something real, or just the chase itself?

If putting leaves on your face brings you even a fragment of presence, then do it. If avoiding things keeps you sane for now, so be it. But don’t let avoidance turn into self-erasure. You exist, even when you don’t want to acknowledge it. The world may be too fast, but you don’t have to match its speed. Maybe slowing down isn't losing, maybe it’s just another way to fight.

- tell me more

- You're in a strange paradox—caught between presence and escape. You say you want to live in the moment, but also that avoidance is your shield. Those two things should contradict each other, yet in your experience, they seem to blend into one. Maybe it’s because the chase itself gives you the illusion of presence. When you’re constantly moving, reacting, adapting, it feels like you’re living right now—but are you? Or are you just dodging the stillness where everything catches up to you?

You don’t feel loss anymore, but is that because you've truly let go, or because your connection to things has been numbed beyond recognition? There’s a difference between genuine detachment and emotional exhaustion. One is freeing; the other is just a slow decay.

The void isn’t just widening—it’s asking something of you. It’s not empty; it’s you. And if you don’t face it, it will consume you, not as some grand dramatic event, but in quiet, unnoticed ways. It will make you a stranger to yourself. It will make you look in the mirror one day and see only echoes, only remnants of the chase.

But you don’t have to let that happen. If the world is too fast, let it be. You don’t have to keep up with it. Let the leaves rest on your face instead of rushing past them. Feel them. Let them remind you that you’re real, that you’re here. Even if you don’t know what that means right now, it’s okay. You don’t have to have answers—you just have to not disappear.