You started feeling this way weeks ago, even though you can’t pinpoint exactly when or how. It’s like a dream, where the beginning fades away into tendrils of pale smoke the more you grasp at it. Even in the now the feeling ebbs and flows, all the keener in moments of stress or contemplation.

It’s more an absence of a feeling than a feeling, an utter emptiness right in the center of your being. Not heartbreak. You’re been there–we all have–but not heartbreak. Not love either. That’s a filling up, a welling, not an empty chasm.

Almost as if someone has reached in and removed something you never knew you had, never knew you could miss, the emptiness gnaws at you, begging to be filled. But how, and with what?