Have you ever felt like losing some part of you? It's a strange sensation, but you can immensely feel that. You can feel the painful emptiness, as if there was a very deep hole in your heart, but no matter how hard you've tried to fulfill the emptiness, you fail. Like people having asthma, even though you've tried to breathe all oxygen in the surrounding air to fill the spaces in your lungs, they’re never really fulfilled. You have to find the losing part; or you’ll never feel complete.

I've been experiencing such sensation every once in a while since I was perhaps 16 (I'm almost 26 now). Previously, it was very poor defined. I could only feel the painful emptiness, without being able to explain it in any sort of way. I only knew it resembled the desperate feelings of someone has just lost his/her most beloved one, an experience I’ve never gone through myself. Only in the last few years have I managed to well define the sensation.

Defining the sensation, however, doesn’t mean that the problem’s gone. Like an unexperienced doctor, I can only diagnose the disease, but know not what has caused it nor how to cure it.

I know that listening to certain music, reading certain books, looking at some beautiful views and being in certain conditions could make me feel like the hole is being fulfilled, like the thirst is being quenched. But, unfortunately, these things don’t last long.

When I get bored with the music (which are particularly some classical and oldies singles) and the views (on pictures of beautiful places I’ve collected in the internet); when I’ve finished with the books (I can’t enjoy the same book twice, while so few books can do my heart the 'thirst-quenching' effect); and when I have no idea how to get myself into the certain conditions… my heart is again painfully empty. And it just feels so hurt.

I also used to be able to burst all the deep, painful emptiness through my fiction or poetry writings, which somehow fulfilled the hole. But, I’m now losing the ability to write both.

If I could only play piano, I would play Beethoven's Fur Elise; if I could play violin, I would not waste time to do other things but playing his Violin Concerto in D Major or Pachelbel’s Canon In D; or, If I could play all the classical music instrument, I would play Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of Flower, and all other music that could help me burst the longing.

Or, if I were German author Novalis, I would write my own novel on die blaue Blume, and finish it.

But, I’m not them all. I’m just an ordinary girl who can do nothing but continually feel the painful longing for my blue flower; the losing, scattered pieces of me. If tears are indeed a way to burst the restrained emotions and make oneself feel better, very unfortunately I can’t also shed my tears.

I can only feel the pain, which is now seemingly never ending (hope not).