Longing

It is an itch that cannot be scratched. How could an unseen problem be sorted out? In which way the invisible becomes a monster of such hold? If the tumor must be torn out, it should be done later, never sooner; yet the trouble worsens when no tumor is found. Where on earth has the plague that wreaked havoc since long gone? It's not there but it hurts, for it left a hollow replacement that fits and works perfectly. How could an invisible tumor be traced and destroyed then?

What if it is neglected? Just pretending it is not there, that it has never existed. The beauty of invisibility lies in itself: it can't be seen and, therefore, it's easier to neglect. If I regularly pretend that it's not there, soon I will buy my own preachment. It won't matter anymore if it keeps growing. I can't see it, anyway.

It will be worth trying, there is nothing to lose but the counsciousness of such pain. Everybody knows that uncounsciousness means absolute anaesthesics.