Love and other bugs.

When there are no feelings there is nothing. No sound, no light. Just the slow, shallow breathing of the person devoid of emotions. A shadow. For him there is no start, there isn't a build, there is no anticipation to the climax, not even the gentle descent into the solitary blues. Nothing. Silence and cold and the lonely heart's beating.

You don't know what you're missing. The muffled glee of a girlhood crush, or the patient and building love of an elderly couple. Not even the devastation that a failure brings when you think you've ruined your life for the nth time, each time as if you're being ripped to shreds. Nothing. Silence.

Grasping and groping for affection. We all need someone who can and will give it to us. And then we become the warm, fuzzy, cheesy people we all swore we'd never become.

But it feels so nice.