I can't. I physically and emotionally can't.

"No, you can't. You physically and emotionally can't."

The sentence that has haunted the civilization inside my head for years. Contemplating every waking second of life as I walk aimlessly around this empty house. A normal everyday routine that only I have mastered because I have had no one to explain it to. It's not like I put myself in this position, it's because I can't build up the manpower to go out and find someone willing to delve into the tangled thoughts I produce on a daily basis. They're not normal everyday thoughts. They're thoughts, ideas processed a million times in a course of ten minutes. Thoughts of love, thoughts of music, thoughts of different ways I can prepare dinner for a family of one. One. That's all it's ever been. People ask me why I live alone, why I choose to walk alone, why I do a lot of things alone. I tell them I can't, I physically and emotionally can't. I can't live alone, I can't walk alone, I can't do anything alone. The problem I have is this. The millions of processed thoughts of love, music, and ways I can prepare dinner for myself are revoulving around you. Now that you're gone I have to do these things alone. I don't chose this, it's because I am compelled to. I can't push my thoughts to process anyone else's eye color, scent of their hair, or the way they sound when they're excited. I've lost my need for sleep because I can't get myself to fall asleep into an endless night without you. It's hard to confess to myself that my loneliness isn't my fault when I'd die of thirst if I could only fill your cup. When I'd rather freeze with you than be under the warmest covers. 

I can't. I physically and emotionally can't.