The Soul Beneath The Metal Vei

I keep questioning unrealistic things. Maybe I just find it difficult to accept what's human. I feel deeply in my own skin. Yet something feels missing. I'm not a robot, I have feelings, and I experience ardor. But why does it feel like there's something empty. Like my heart feels hollow, akin to a quiet void. As if in the midst of feeling, I might perish away. I'm not numb, not without emotion. But there's a space inside me—endless and unknown. A place where even questions fall silent. I want to believe I am human, therefore I exist not created.