There she sat, curled up with her face pressed against her knees in the dim, almost eerie light of the bathroom. Although I couldn't see her face when she finally let me in, I felt as f I understood the emotion which had eluded her. I felt as if I knew what it was on her mind.
She, firstly, had no idea what she felt. Was it good or bad or uncomfortable? The simple lack of knowledge of it left her appalled and emotionally unbalanced. At that moment, she wanted to cry. More importantly, she wanted a reason to cry. Or at least a reason to not cry so she could scold herself for crying senselessly. Instead, there was nothing. Instead, she could find no feeling at all, no emotion to describe and no cause for her actions save some tingle which had made her act as she had.
There I was, confused and disturbed by that thought. At a loss for words as I knew not how to help her. I felt my stomach turn at my helplessness and the weight of the world seemed to crash upon me as I was lost, unable to help her. I couldn't help her stop crying because she wasn't crying. I couldn't help her hate me, or stop hating me, because she didn't feel either of those. I could relieve discomfort, because she was so oddly between comfort and discomfort that there was nothing I could do. Quite simply, I was powerless.
And it scared me.
Why must the girl I love be so far from my reach even when she is right beside me?