When you have love secreting from your pores it is easy to feel as though all is lost when that no longer remains. The love still comes just as it did before however when the object of your affection is missing, that love just recklessly spews out leaving nothing but an obvious void. I wonder at times how people carry on, is it because most do not shoulder emotion with such measure? It is not that the loss is so great that it has left me paralyzed but that time itself has become immeasurable and life will likely languish in misery. Not life in its entirety but the glorious wave of sentiment that comes and goes, which is where many of us unwittingly define our lives.