ABC's of Nothingness

Another day in the life of a lost soul.
Behind my eyes lies a story of unattainable memories and unreachable ends.
Centuries of nothingness has taught me that some things are only worth giving up on.
Despite the endless attempts to reach the end of the lane, the endless tries to leave behind the land of unwanted serendipities, it was proved impossible for me to leave my state of mind. Everything I did resulted in the most obsolete nothingness; I was in the core of existence, but yet nothing existed.
Friends of mine had once told me that I should always look at the world in a varying light, to avoid losing myself in routine and ennui.
Ghouls took the best of my weaknesses and turned it into the worst.
Had I only been more wary of myself, of my surroundings, of my tendency to disappear, I would perhaps still be here.
I didn't even know what "here" consisted of, or where it was now located.
Jubilantly, one day I decided to stop caring altogether.
Knowledge proved to be weaker than Ignorance, and I found myself ignoring more and more, and hence becoming more and more ignorant.
Lights no longer phased me, I was at the peak of my blased state, I was delving into the realms of pointless imagination.
Maybe it was the imagination that snatched me away that spring evening, under the mist of mountain tops.
Nobody was there to see it; nobody would have noticed either way.
Only my body and I were present; and I believe that that was when I lost my body, somewhere in that hexed, merry mist.
People say that your eyes have to be open to more than just what you see; but what happens when you can see too much?
Queens too are forgotten in the land where I found myself lost.
Recently, I've heard stories of people who are so forgotten, they forget themselves and cease to exist.
Several souls agglomerate here, but within instants most of them forget that they are surrounded by others, mirrors of themselves.
They are blinded by the memories of the unison with their forgotten bodies, memories of motion, of senses, of contact.
United loneliness is the only thing that comes to mind when you become a lost soul.
Vicious tricks of the mind, and if you get too carried away, they will carry you away.
Whenever I try to pull myself closer to what I used to be, I feel myself getting dragged further south, further away from my desires, from my fears, from everything that once made me myself. X-ray vision goggles wouldn't serve me much to look within myself, to find the burnt out flame that used to ignite me.
Years have gone by, and I still haven't moved.
Zephyrs brush past my cage of nothingness, and remind me slightly of what it used to be like to be alive; a cold warming breeze.