If ever I had to write, I would write about loss.
Like I attempt to do right now.
Loss, pain, emptiness, loneliness, helplessness.
As morose as they may sound, I’d like to write about them.
These are the feelings which keep asking to be justified, to be addressed, scream for answers, at least some explanation.
But never, never get one.
And any explanation, however deep, cannot dislodge them.
They keep coming back once they strike as long as memory exists.
As long as the very basis for such emotions does not fade away.
A lot of it.