Like Rapids

The world faded to nothingness, disappeared as far as his senses were concerned. He introverted. He withdrew into his mind, the company of which he sometimes preferred over that of the world. There he felt strong feelings. He felt regret, longing, self-hatred, pining, pain, a desperate want – a desperate need – to feel everything opposite to these feelings. He felt a need to be normal and loved. He felt a need for these things, simple and a given for the average person, but which had evaded him since the very beginnings of his memory.

He remembered the short time when these things he needed became so tangible – and were in his grasp! – and then vanished, unbeknownst to him until it was all gone. He only had the impression it left. It was still there, just as easy to feel – and just as unpleasant – as the void. Regret intensified. Longing lengthened. A handful of simple but profound wishes collected and declared themselves painfully bluntly. A well within him stirred. But it didn't quite overflow. It hadn't for a while, for a reason unknown to him.

Then an awareness of how pitiful he was flowed through him. First like a stream.

Then like rapids.