I am mourning a loss.
The only problem is that I'm not sure exactly what it is that I've lost. Youth? Time? You?
On this planet in space, are we hurtling or drifting? Can we simultaneously hurtle and drift? (But, oh, let's not think too deeply about our place in the universe, not alone in the middle of the night in the dead of winter with the weight of imminent decay threatening to crush us like a gnat under my thumb.)
With all those organs crammed in there, all that bone, all that blood, how can there be such an emptiness? It's like looking at someone across the pillow and having them seem a million miles away.
I want to sleep like a cat, curled up into myself.
I want to force the moment to its climax. (I want to eat a peach.)
But instead I will watch the dull orange glow of the dying light bulb above my head fade, and mourn my shadowy loss.