Tell me of your brokenness

There are times I truly feel that all the stability and warmth I feel are there only to cover up how horribly I've been hurt and how empty it's left me. That these notions of emotional indulgence that I have exist only to keep me from more-closely examining that one grain of sand in my oceans of infinity where all the pain and grief were kept. Only now, that grain is gone. And no matter how much I look for it, I cannot find it. Only in memory do I know what grief is. Memory is one of my strongest senses. Yet I am broken in ways I can't even begin to describe. I'm not sure it matters, because nothing said or done here can repair the damage done, and we've no way to know the true cause of it... These are just words on your screen. I feel something missing and try not to dwell on it, but thanks for asking.