Is it the flesh that calls out to flesh, or the heart that calls out to a heart?

I can’t decide which phrase to put ahead of the other, since to do so would place emphasis on the first and less on the second. When loneliness strikes, which comes first - the desire for physical intimacy, or for deeper understanding? I’ve decided on this order because the mental image of an embrace seems to offer respite, but I’m sure that the symbol of the heart encompasses far more of this pain.

The heart. Where emotions are born, where identity resides. The core of our being, the centre. You would think it immovable, and yet it yearns.

The loneliness that one feels in the dark of the night is a strange, untraceable emotion. It is painful, that much I know. But unlike most pains – pains of failure, of inadequacy, of heartbreak – this one has no particular cause. The heart does not yearn for another specific heart, just as the skin does not long for specific flesh.

All I know is that it yearns.

Finding something to yearn for is a respite in itself. An embrace. The fantasies that ensue – the situations we hope to create, the revelations we hope to discover – these are all comforts from this bleak nothingness. They may be mere dreams, but all dreams have a direction.

And thus, the difficulty of finding someone becomes a tragic mockery of our uniqueness – a reminder that once again, we are special, and alone.