1.24.12 (reflections on a past life, or, piece of a larger story yet to be written)

It was at this time that I began to believe that when a person began to love someone, they gave that person a part of themselves. Each time I had taken a woman to bed, I had loved them a little, some more than others of course. I began to believe that I had been losing myself, piece by piece. This explained my sudden case of complete and total apathy. I had given too much this time.This had happened once or twice before, but never this messy, and I had never felt this vulnerable. I had left myself open to my inevitable doom. If I didn't die of natural causes soon, surely I would bring about my own demise. It had been nearly a week, since that lustful night of sin, and I still hadn't recovered. How much longer would it persist? The mood itself was torture enough, but the longing to see her, speak to her, hear her, touch her, was crippling. The night had been lived as if in another land, one far from here, and had ended with the afternoon sun. Such fleeting moments seem to produce the deepest wounds...