A meeting of two loving and lonely hearts. Too sad for pretense or charm. Longing looks of gratitude. Warm teary eyes lock upon one another and look away. We see in one another the parts that have yet to come forward: the lightness and the rage. I catch a whiff of the future laughter and conflict that will transpire between our reactive—if self-aware—fiery souls. I will fall for this person (as is my lonely soul’s wont) and have to grieve the unrequited part of my love to enjoy the other parts. Perhaps the grief has already begun, even as they sit next to me on the couch.

I reach exhaustion. I hold back saying this because I know they have a prior engagement to which they must soon attend. I am simultaneously sated and empty. I walk her to her car. We embrace tightly. I can feel the mutual insatiability in our hug as well as the safety of knowing that we both recognize our insatiability.

I lack spirit. My life force is low. It has grown increasingly so lately. Even a potentially healing experience increases the emptiness since it serves to remind me that what I seek cannot be found within another. What a sad and saving grace it is to know that. A knowledge that has allowed me to hold onto the love that is in my life.

I look inside myself and realize that whatever it is I need from myself is not there right now. I turn to food. I binge. I limit myself to vegetables and hummus—my tiny victory for the day.

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