The Fantasy Of Oblivion

I feel heavy.

I gave a presentation on the paper I am writing. and got a poor grade. The evaluator didn't say anything, didn't ask anything, graded the paper poorly, and didn't even give any feedback. It looks like they don't support my stance on the topic of SSR&PIL. 
I received another grade today. Poor too, this one. But, this one is on me. I didn't work hard enough. I deserve it. I don't even remember working hard for anything now in life. 

Last night, I wrote for the first time in a long time. I felt a bit lighter. I had forgotten how light it feels when I put my feelings on paper in the form of words. But, I also felt something else, a bit emptier. Some more space in my head. People say it is generally a good thing. When you write to relieve stress, you feel lighter because you have space in that head of yours for more important things going on in life.

It made me think. It scared me a bit because I have no other important things to put in that empty space. It made me a question...
What's important to me? What is the worth of my existence? What do I want? Do I aspire to be rich? Or, famous? Or, intelligent? Do I love? Do I want to love? Do I want to be loved? Do I desire? Do I want to be desired? Do I want someone or something in my life? Do I even deserve to? Do I even have the capacity to want or to aspire or to love or be loved or desire? What's the shape of my future?
I do not know. I do not understand where other people get answers to these questions. Do they even get these questions or do these things come to them, naturally?
I feel empty. I just realized this emptiness is heavier. Because it's noisy. The questions echo. They have that scary devil's voice with little air whooshing around, the devil's tail strapped around my neck, choking me tighter as I skip every one of those questions unanswered. Grh...

How do people do this? How do they function? I see people planning, and building, each block filled with meaning, each brick shaped with hard work and perspiration. I wait for myself to feel the kick to do the same. But, I don't feel the kick. And now, I don't even want to feel it. Because I can't even see myself in my own future anymore or with people. When I peek into the idea of the future in my mind, I see myself as absent. Non-existent. I see myself as nothingness. Blended into the atmosphere? Or buried deep under that rock bottom after being sucked by the quicksand pit? 

No desire. No want. No hope. No success. No failure. No love. No war. Just nothing. Oblivion. Nothingness — is probably my only fantasy.

- Oizys.