I try so hard to make this pain concrete, but it eludes me. Perhaps akin to the same phantom pain that amputees experience. A remedy, they found, was a mirror placed strategically against the undamaged symmetrical part of the body that tricks the mind into thinking that you are complete. When it is, in fact just a mirror-image placebo. And that’s good enough to temporarily thwart the pain of something that is not there. A pain of something that is vivid in your memory, that you want so badly to wake up from.
I wish I could look into a mirror and quantify the completeness of my life, but everyday is a struggle to find that empty spot that needs to be filled. The day is full of distractions, full of chatter with no meaning. A lot of times you succeed in playing through the motions that the ‘real’ world prescribes you, the routine that allows you to function outside of your mind. Disconnect me from the bullshit. What makes the pain worse is not just the past; the real pain lies in imagining a world without you in it. I miss you, and I love you, Alexis and Nika.