When I am desperate, balled up on the floor, begging and wailing for this gripping emptiness to end its crusade on my body - I try and find you. In each cell of my being, I search for the feeling I left, four years ago, in the middle of the country. As hard as I try to feel the warmth of your old car’s seats hugging my body and the fabric of your peacoat, my heart rises to my throat, bobbing in the vastness of your absence. I lay on the cold laminent with a heavy knowing that I am my only savior. There is no amount of love from another that softens and protects our heartbreak. To ask for you, in this time of hurt, is to merely bandaid a broken bone. There is somewhere deeper I must go, there is something cosmically purposeful I can only feel when I meet the girl who screams in pain.