Joy.
The kind that comes from contact,
romantic comedies,
a happy ending in the book you’re reading.
But some books don’t always end happy.
Sometimes people die
or worlds are destroyed
or old wounds never quite heal.
Illness.
The kind that comes from awkwardness,
the impending rejection you know is coming from that guy you like,
the unwanted touch.
But touching can be wonderful.
Wonder.
The kind that comes from the miracle of birth,
the pure genius of a statue in an art museum,
the beauty of that human being standing before you.
But sometimes that human being is completely unattainable,
and suddenly –
Loneliness.
Inexplicable, inexorable, insatiable loneliness.
The need to be held,
the need to feel his lips on yours,
the tickle of his breath on your ear as he tells you
that everything is going to be okay.
But it will be okay.
Relief.
He promised you so.
He said it would be that way,
and that is the way it will be.
And then,
slowly,
surely,
and beautifully,
nothing.