There is a peculiar kind of self that lingers on with you after severed attachments. Usually, before the breaking, the two souls had already started to form the unison, and so a certain connection had started replacing pieces of each with ones from the other.
When the pang prematurely descends on that bond and the souls part undone, the remnants of the action continue to exist in the fabrics of both selves. And in the most metaphysical kind of way, and just like you’d find missing pieces of yourself, you’d discover those of your ex-half in their stead.
While making certain judgments, you would feel as if a foreign agent is interfering with your psyche, and somehow causing an off tone in your rational and emotional domains. You find out that your sense of being has rules you don’t precisely live by, rules that if you don’t follow, you’d actually feel a distorted kind of blame, and if you do end up going by, your satisfaction tends to be disoriented.
It renders in one solemn respect for the divine process of coexistence. It is very subtle, gradual and powerful. Being careless to its due needs, and being too obsessed about its development usually qualify for good reasons for it to cease.
After it ceases, the remains stay in your sighs. Even though painful at first, confusing across, and that philosophical at the end, it is to merit gratitude, for how else ought one to know oneself and whom they truly need?