Echoing

Everything always seems to echo in the dark. That’s the way it goes. This loss, always of the heart, was not a human person, but a concept. Something that is always there at the start gradually dissipates over time. When realization dawns, it almost seems as if there was a murder of the concept. It wasn’t that quick, but rather surgically slow. But just as realization comes, the reminiscence of what once was there feels violently ripped away. Not as painful but simultaneously excruciating through the echoes.

It is the realization and the echoing cries of the past that are the most painful. The idea and the natural feeling, dimming out, because I was told that mine were irrational and to blame every day. Happening time and time again, the feeling of nothing taking place, and, eventually, acceptance of the matter. The thing was beautiful while it was whole, the most painful when it was rejected, even without realization. Now it just echoes at times, but those echoes build the new whole that will come, with the hope that it WILL eventually come.