This sadness knows no end.
Momentary happiness covers me in the day. But as soon as I find solitude, this cover leaves me. I undress and in the nude is my skin, and the sadness that inks it. This sadness marks me. It is present, like a second skin that shapes me. It is impossible to miss.
They say grief feels like walking around with a hole in your heart. I did not believe it. In my mind, holes in the hearts are for immature fools who cannot withstand heat and its reshaping. Today I stand corrected. I, too, now have a hole in my heart.
I walk and live and breathe in the day with a hole in my heart. A dark pit whose depth remains unknown and unexplored. A hole that is heavy and influences me with a deep sunken feeling. A vacuum that sucks me in until it aches. A physical attack that leaves me defenseless.
Happiness does not last, never throughout the day. In those brief and special moments, I cherish the happiness and I promptly speak my gratitude because I know the sadness immediately follows. Even when I have noticed the pattern, still the sadness catches me, wraps me, and spins me in its fingers.
In my solitude, Grief sits with me. Shares coffee with me. Accompanies me. Mirrors my every move. Uses its body language to let me know its attraction towards me. Sometimes it is a friend who understands my sadness, and consoles me for it. Sometimes it is a pressing boss who demands my attention by repeatedly stabbing me, which eventually manifests into a physical assault to the heart. I have to turn towards it. I have to face it.
This sadness knows no end. In the night, I still lie awake to nothing. A nothing so profound yet so dark, hollow, and heavy. Some nights, the weirdest dreams still haunt me and leave me waking to confusion and an insatiable longing. I continue to long for every thing that I am missing.
The days are long. The nights longer. The happiness brief. The sadness, the longing, the loneliness, the waiting, I do not know how it starts, only that it goes on.