Separation Anxiety

Ever since the Big Bang I’ve wanted to be part of something.

I am a self-aware atom, living with the knowledge that I am incomplete.
No. I am a human being, living with the unshakeable feeling that it is not enough to merely be myself. For, I must also be you.

It is with truly great irony that humans reproduce, further separating themselves from themselves, and from each other, with ever-sickening frequency. But my contrary nature is invariably natural. I simply wish to re-produce the original conditions that gave rise to the human condition.
Whereas fine detail defines lives that are spread thinly, I require simplicity. No shape, form, or colour.


Our inter-actions are candescent cascades, a domino effect of matter upon matter in all its beautiful forms. I convert derived experience into thought, and thought into words of a common language which are then transmitted between us through atmospheric vibrations, brain to brain. What began life as a simple sentiment became a secretly complex process, devoid of romance, impossibly inhuman.

My predicament is this; in my attempts to accurately describe the anguish of this severing I am falling into the trap of romance, which by definition is unrealistic. Describing abstractions with further abstractions, in order to reach some kind of intelligible outcome. How futile it all suddenly seems.

In a very literal sense I want to reconfigure my body so that we occupy the same space, not side by side, nor overlapping, but in such a way that there is no distinction whatsoever between us. So that there is no longer even an ‘us’ to speak of. Like droplets of water running together to coalesce in some vast transparent glass vessel.
I firmly grasp and press hard against your flesh, hoping to elicit the same changes I simultaneously desire in my-self. To melt, to reverse the process of progress, to descend into silence and finally cease all thought.

It is madness to which you have driven me, for it is both indescribably clear how unattainable these cravings are, and yet I still want for nothing more. Irrationality has engulfed me like a fine haze, so barely visible that I might even begin to question its presence at all.

How do I dissipate this dissonance? With deliberate distance?