The feeling is a complicated one. It is negative, and yet it is positive. It is its own paradox. It is a black hole, pulling me in, and yet it is a source of energy.
I adore, I crave the feeling, but at the same time, I hate and want nothing to do with it.
It is brilliant and warm, yet can be so dark and cold. The moments of warmth grow a little more each day, the cold retreating.
I crave it a little more each day, pulling my self toward the daylight from the dark confines of myself. I get so close, but each time, the ground is pulled away from under my feet, and I slide back down the rocky slope.
It is a feeling I want to cling to, something that tells me with every passing moment that I’m not alone. I have someone waiting for me, just as I’m waiting for her, looking toward the horizon with each step I take. I will find her, someday, somewhere. I will find her again.
The feeling is love.