The mind can be a terrible thing. Sure, it is often the mind that propels the body to accomplish superhuman feats; it is the mind that enables us to soldier on through even the most difficult of times.

Yet, it is the same mind that fails us when one too many a day have passed. When your mind–your soul–aches for the memory of another’s touch. When you wish desperately that you could conjure up the taste of a kiss, or the fine, salty mist of perspiration that cloaks your lover’s neck. Indeed, that is when memory is most cruel, when its absence strikes a chord and the emptiness of your life reverberates strong and loud.

That is where I find myself at this moment. Exuberant in a memory, but carrying on in a vapid, stunted existence.