Hearts have been broken before. Why is she affecting me so profoundly? Why did she mean so much to me? Why did so much of my worth reside in her? What did she catalyze in my being? In the sea of love . . . it's really a bay and it still has no shores.
I'm tortured by existence. I feel like I'm dragging each day like an unwanted weight. I despair each morning that I awake. All because of her. All because of what I thought we were. All because that was wrong. Those things she said about me, where did it all come from?
I can drag each weary day to the next weary day. Live, breathe, pump blood, spend energy, replenish energy, all with no life at all. I'm supposed to be learning something about life. I'm supposed to be finding something about my nature.
My memories of Amina are filled with embarrassment and shame. I was so wrong about her. She couldn't have said all of the hurtful and malicious things if a sliver of what I thought we were was accurate.
Hearts have been broken before. Why is Amina different? What was Amina?
OK, What was Amina?
Amina tied into everything. She became a part of my world, she was a part of me and everything around me and everything I noticed, everything that caught my interest, everything I reacted to. Amina helped my senses come alive, she brought color to the world around me, substance to the reality I perceived. She was ingrained in me, she got in between my molecules, she flowed in my blood and I breathed her in and breathed her out. Now that she's gone, everything around me and everything I perceive is her residue.
And none if it was even fucking real.
