With a thought the feeling returns and I impulsively clutch my chest.
It won't go away.
My mind whirls with disordered thoughts. I realise that I'm frowning again and try to relax my eyebrows.
The pain abates a bit, and I chastise myself once again for my moment of weakness as I become conscious of the way I'm clutching at my heart.
But that thought is enough to trigger another wave of overwhelming loss to wash over me.
Despite my best efforts to use logic and reason to change my mindset my heart still has a void that is difficult to ignore.
This is what happens when you invest yourself, the cynical part of my mind tells me.
Why even bother when the only feasible conclusion is loss? It's difficult for me to argue against my own poisonous thoughts.
Well, the optimistic side of my mind replies, it's not the worst thing to happen. It's not like it's the end of the world or anything.
No, responds the irrational and emotional part of me, it wasn't the world that ended but a world did. It still hurts.
Once again the other irrational part of me injects a sense of shame into my heart.
Stop this rubbish! It's pathetic.
It is a bit pathetic, isn't it? I say to myself conglomerate.
It's not like someone has died, even though it feels exactly as if someone has.
Plus, I say to me, what's the use of refusing to invest myself in anything? Is that any way to live? Isn't that pathetic as well? It's the worst form of cowardice, the one where you don't even venture outside of yourself.
I sit back, trying to relax my features again. My eyebrows keep meeting in a frown and my bottom lip keeps sticking out. In the back of my mind I remember the way my grandparents used to tease me about my features sticking that way whenever I was deep in thought.
A more rational and understanding part of me speaks up - It's true that someone hasn't died, but it's not entirely pathetic to feel this way. What has happened is natural, you knew this when you started, that it would end eventually.
I can feel the other parts of me reluctantly agreeing, most watchfully, ready to disagree at a moment's notice.
In essence, the same part of me continues, you have become used to the intimacy that comes with these things. A world did end, but it's not as bad as you might think. And it's not like it's permanently gone, you can always revisit it.
Already I feel somewhat relieved.
It makes sense, it's reasonable, given the nature of the situation.
I still feel a bit down, it's not every day that you have to cut off the intimacy that comes with imagination.
I mean, I can always read the book again or find another.
It won't go away.
My mind whirls with disordered thoughts. I realise that I'm frowning again and try to relax my eyebrows.
The pain abates a bit, and I chastise myself once again for my moment of weakness as I become conscious of the way I'm clutching at my heart.
But that thought is enough to trigger another wave of overwhelming loss to wash over me.
Despite my best efforts to use logic and reason to change my mindset my heart still has a void that is difficult to ignore.
This is what happens when you invest yourself, the cynical part of my mind tells me.
Why even bother when the only feasible conclusion is loss? It's difficult for me to argue against my own poisonous thoughts.
Well, the optimistic side of my mind replies, it's not the worst thing to happen. It's not like it's the end of the world or anything.
No, responds the irrational and emotional part of me, it wasn't the world that ended but a world did. It still hurts.
Once again the other irrational part of me injects a sense of shame into my heart.
Stop this rubbish! It's pathetic.
It is a bit pathetic, isn't it? I say to myself conglomerate.
It's not like someone has died, even though it feels exactly as if someone has.
Plus, I say to me, what's the use of refusing to invest myself in anything? Is that any way to live? Isn't that pathetic as well? It's the worst form of cowardice, the one where you don't even venture outside of yourself.
I sit back, trying to relax my features again. My eyebrows keep meeting in a frown and my bottom lip keeps sticking out. In the back of my mind I remember the way my grandparents used to tease me about my features sticking that way whenever I was deep in thought.
A more rational and understanding part of me speaks up - It's true that someone hasn't died, but it's not entirely pathetic to feel this way. What has happened is natural, you knew this when you started, that it would end eventually.
I can feel the other parts of me reluctantly agreeing, most watchfully, ready to disagree at a moment's notice.
In essence, the same part of me continues, you have become used to the intimacy that comes with these things. A world did end, but it's not as bad as you might think. And it's not like it's permanently gone, you can always revisit it.
Already I feel somewhat relieved.
It makes sense, it's reasonable, given the nature of the situation.
I still feel a bit down, it's not every day that you have to cut off the intimacy that comes with imagination.
I mean, I can always read the book again or find another.
