I wouldn't say that I am lonely just like I wouldn't say that I'm bored. It's only when this feeling of longing for you comes up over the course of a few days slowly building up; I realize how in denial I am about my feelings. How much time I spend in an abstract detachment. In a convenient numbness.
The feelings are interesting, help me to feel like I'm alive, I wonder why I don't seem to have access to them normally. I wouldn't say that they are painful exactly. I guess this is what true romance is. Not the fluffy, superficial, safe stuff they use to sugarcoat reality with but actual feelings of tearing, grasping, hoping, losing and grieving.
Am I in love with you? Rationally, no. I'm enraged by your behavior. The intensity though is quite unnerving, how much this is costing me. My sister says they are hooks that you have to remove from your energy body. How can disconnecting be so pseudo-painful and rendering to me unless I have some definite feelings for you and that despite of you doing next to nothing to warrant any kind of regard, let alone affection.
There it is though, some kind of antidote to my unconscious loneliness, an antidote to my boredom. You have done absolutely nothing to warrant any goodwill from my part and yet I'm in a turmoil of romance with you, full of a yearning tinged with despair. My rational-self looks on with disgust or is it pity at this pathetic display of co-dependence and drama.
You could be trying to remove my hooks but you don't even know that there are hooks, you don't even know how I feel. When you read my texts, I think you just see words. Words without connotation because you don't feel like I do. I've often wondered if you feel anything at all. Your heart is so full of graphene at this point, the whole thing is pointless, spiked with misunderstanding and fear. You shut down when I am near.
I welcome these feelings you bring up in me nonetheless. I haven't felt this much lust for life in an age, even with my other health problems that seem to be inflamed by this recent episodic love-fest, I still lye awake at night feeling such emotion, genuinely baffled at this uncovering of feeling, this woundedness. I'm floating in a debris field of karmic misery, this is the teat that humanity has been suckling on since the dawn of time; the myth of separation.