wtorek, 4 kwietnia 2017

Missgony.

The agony of missing another individual. The extreme suffering. The mental, physical, unbearable pain. There are three stages of missagony. One more ruthless than the other.

The first one. Mental. When your mind runs back to the last time you saw them. When your fingers scroll back to relieve the conversations of the past. When the memory of them is kept on replay on the whiteboard of your mind. When your thoughts are tangled and everything's a blur except from one picture. Of their smile.
The second one. Physical. When your hand aches and your chest starts to get heavy. When you finally loose all control over your body and it starts shaking. When the pain spreads to your forehead, your lips, your arms and legs and you can feel it consume you.
The worst one. The unbearable. You no longer miss their touch, it's not about their presence anymore. It's about so much more. It's their voice. Suddenly you can't remeber, can't recall the high pitched tone of them singing their favourite line of that song you hate but love at the same time... just because it reminds you of them. Only way I could describe it is that it's like trying to hum that one song you liked on the radio  but didn't catch a phrase long enough to find it. It's like the blind leading the blind. Like smoke taming fire. It's a choking sensation in your throat. Your words start to burn because they're nothing alike theirs.


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