There is a hole….more like a space. A vacuum. Though I describe it with images, it can’t be seen. It is felt. In the pit of the stomach, in the chest.

It aches, this space. Not like a tooth, or a sore muscle. It is more like the memory of an ache. A longing, or desire. For a touch, a kiss, a smile. It demands attention. Filling.

Food helps on the occasion. But, not always. Alcohol, drugs help, but they too wear off. Buying things…silly things that you really don’t need or will ever use helps. For a bit.

And then the ache returns. Making you wonder just what is it that will satisfy it. What will satiate the insatiable? Most times, if you think on it, you find that you really have nothing that you need to fill the void. That there should not even be a void.

Alcohol, and drugs dull the ache. They might even take it away for awhile. But it always returns. That which is felt, not seen. That which you are aware of, but can do little to satisfy.

That ever present ache.