It is not so much being without you as the thought of being without you that freezes me. My mind ceases to process the idea in order to shield me from the emotional ramifications of pursuing such a thought. Simultaneously, my brain rattles in a desperate attempt to drown itself in a thought that relieves my body from the noxiousness that is the thought of your absence. You know a thought has meaning when you feel your body react to it, when you feel it racing, or rather creeping, from the epicenter of your head to the tiniest peripheral outskirt of your body, from behind your forehead to the inside of your fingertips.