The Beginnings of a Black Hole

It is baffling how the mind has an infinite capacity for emotion. The body, physiologically, has bounds. There is a limit for how much food you can eat, beverages you can drink, even pain you can stomach, but; have you ever felt your mind ache as it stretches and molds to confine the love you possess? While occasionally nauseating, there are no set bounds or limits to the quantity of love in the mind at a given time. Vast as the universe, our minds house every ounce of love we feel.

But I suppose we must wonder what this looks like, how does the mind do it? Do we assign certain rooms in an infinite hotel to certain loves, some occupying multiple conjoined rooms? Or is it much less defined than that, just an infinite space occupied by the intertwining loves that we feel. Personally, I relate more to the latter. I feel that there is an infinitely small pocket in my mind, home to the love I feel and have felt for any and every person I’ve ever interacted with. I have felt this pocket, it is lined with stretchmarks. It has grown and stretched, sometimes shriveled through the years, occasionally laying empty.

Sometimes this pocket burns. I feel its elastic walls struggle as they accommodate a new guest. This instance I might’ve benefitted from a boundary, a limit, some endpoint to this pocket. It has yet to stop. I’m not bitter, though. At some point the burn stops, there is a limit for how much pain you can stomach. But I know. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know there is a little pocket, just growing and growing with no end in sight.