The space I occupy is desolate. My mind and my soul are missed, two separate spheres that cannot connect on the basis of biology and a lack of balance.  I am left with the brain and the heart, the physical representations of the spiritual interdependence I can visualize floating away.  Who are we if not our spiritual selves? Empty shells, bodies that can’t fill themselves with love and emotion as if they are grasping for a breath but shallowly inhale, never enough to make it through.  Heartbreak will do that to a girl, push everything out so you can deal with the most basic issues, but it means you lose a little bit of yourself for every day that you’re missing that wholeness.  We’re all drowning in life, and it’s the moments where you reach the surface that allow you to get through the moments when you want to embrace the despair.  My ocean is vast, and often it is empty, leaving me alone with my thoughts, but I’ll find someone who is caught in the same current.  Perhaps I can find the willpower within myself to drag each aching limb toward the oxygen of relief above, because we all must do it on our own at some point, even if it’s just during our last submerged moments. No matter what, I will no longer live a solitary life, and I will find solace in the struggle to the surface.