In a dark room, you instinctively look around for a person, feet, arms, the one you compelled in your heart to stick around. You look back to empty space. I look at her and I wonder how many people have cried as they gave it up. I turn around and am confronted by the sickness of my own soul. I kneel, and I cry, and I cry. Relapse. I thought I was safe from myself now, but it comes to make me weak again. And then I see that the embrace, the presence I was looking for, is in every invisible particle in the air. He was always there.