It is an illness of the young. Some of us carry it into old age but most grow out of it like shoes that are now too small. Some day you will remember again these feelings and think back and know they were just passing. Unless you are like me, old, living in the past today and the future tmorrow, never letting go, refusing to let go. In which case I feel sorry for you. Nice wrte.

I know this feeling. I live it, have lived it the entirety of a lifetime. The persistent longing and craving for the ache which only unrequited love can muster upon a heart which can only become whole when it is in shattered to bits.