They say it is a difficult feeling to capture in words. But I can describe what losing it feels like.
My entire core feels herniated. My heart has been ripped from its moorings, though a small chunk of chambermeat hangs from the aorta. The rest of it has been rent and slung across the carpet. It lies in blood and flaps, the edges of which are scalloped and shred.
My throat is tight and sore. This, combined with my difficulty breathing, foggy head, physical strain, sore dull flu-like achiness in back and joints, lack of motivation and interest, distractability, frustration confusion anger, all conspire to make difficult speaking. And writing: until this the only thing I could write were text messages consecutively considerate then sad then needy. Because I can't let Girl run from this. Maybe I should right now but I can't.
So when I'm not at turns drilling into work and having vulnerable a.f. convos with colleagues I'm back in bed high and listening to playlists.
Okay, so those aren't all feelings. I diverged from the topic sentence a bit.