Nihilitarianism

As it is now, my creative impulse is based on an obsession with exploration of new things, and it is distracting me from the emotions that form the core of life, because I already know them. I need to return to the essence of what I am, and trim all the frills. Where am I, where did I leave myself behind, buried beneath all the noise? I want to be released, to be myself and freed from my self's outer shells — cut them away, let me shed my calluses and feel how the exposed skin beneath is raw in the open air. That's what my creativity should focus on, on self-expression rather than self-improvement, rather than adding something to myself. Burn it all away, all the packaging, all the ornamental walls. What's inside me, bound, gagged, emitting muffled moans from beneath its encumbrances, its vest of lead? I can just barely feel it, glimpse it now and then through the passing traffic. I tried to escape it, because I knew I couldn't stay as I was, and when no change came, I wanted to force it. I can't feel anything anymore — my nerves are covered in an impenetrable layer of armor.