Do not confuse being alone

as loneliness

because when you’re alone

you still possess

a sense of self—

you’re simply solitary,

and have no one,

right now.

Maybe sometime

today,

tomorrow,

next week,

next year,

someone will find you

or you’ll find them

and you won't be alone

anymore.

But loneliness

is different.

It lacks a certain heartbeat,

an absence of a soul.

It lacks you.

It doesn’t care for you.

It doesn’t ask your name.

It doesn’t want to listen to your sob stories.

It’ll turn its back

every chance it gets,

and forgets you’re even here.

It leaves you standing at a bus stop

waiting for a ride,

when it was never coming to get you

in the first place.

Even when you're not alone,

you’re alone,

feeling useless,

unfulfilled,

unlovable,

incapable of loving anyone,

but wanting it regardless,

and yet, they all still adore you.

You chew at their tables.

You’re present at their

special gatherings.

You clock in,

clock out,

drive home,

eat again,

drink a little.

You’re here,

alive,

with no reason to live

no understanding of a purpose,

your gas tank,

empty.

Loneliness is you

sitting static on a speeding train

observing the world

between the flashes,

mildly aware of the pulsing crowd

coming and going

from their cushy lives,

and getting off

by the pull of a cord,

of their own free will.

They grow older,

celebrating accolades

buying fancy homes,

and counting each other’s birthdays,

anniversaries

until some die,

and then they mourn each other.

But loneliness

is you

still seated on that tepid train

unaffected,

emotionless,

still empty,

because the parasitic worm deep down

inside you

has eaten everything

everyone ever tried to put in—

You’re a lost orb,

endlessly wandering

without light

in an infinite darkness,

and you have no perception

of up or down,

left or right.

There’s no meaning,

no hope.

You’re just a stray

walking onward

forever

because not even you

knows what’s at the end of a black hole

and you are

the void.

Loneliness, a mysterious companion, walks beside me, its shadow stretching across my emotions. It's a paradox, suffocating yet oddly comforting. It whispers like a haunting melody, weaving tales of isolation, leaving an ache within.

In its presence, the world feels distant, veiled by mist, and the weight of emptiness is overwhelming. Loneliness is an echo that reverberates through the heart, a yearning for connection.

But amid the darkness, it teaches. It compels introspection, forcing me to confront myself. It is a crucible of self-discovery, where solitude fosters growth, unlocking hidden strengths.

Physically alone, emotionally entangled, loneliness is transformative. It's a dance with solitude, a struggle for equilibrium. In these moments, I learn self-compassion, a balm for wounds.

Loneliness weaves its narrative uniquely. It is both burden and gift, an invitation to embrace the human experience in all its shades. Within this vast emotion lies the promise of connection, like stars shining in the darkest night.

“Look!” my breath catches in awe

Face skyward

Diamonds on velvet

As one races away

“… yeah, cool.” is your reply

Not even bothering

To glance up

From your phone

real true honest consuming loneliness

is like a migraine that comes and goes

in the absence of it i forget it entirely

i can't remember how cold it feels

to be surrounded completely by warmth

i feel temperate and protected and alive

until it eases back in like a warning

the first symptom of sickness, a sore throat

a cough, a runny nose, shortness of breath

it lies with me in bed while i tell it to go

to leave me alone, that i'm done with it

but it stays because it's afraid i'm lonely

my solitude hates to leave my alone

and brings it's party of other companions

i knew they were coming and said please no

but here they are, more reliable than i am

it starts with the loneliness, a sore throat

it brings the cold and morbidity of winter

a real true honest consuming loneliness

is sometimes all you can count on

She listens to music

Plugged into her headphones

As if they're life support

She holds back

All the good

Cause she's scared

Of her bad side

Dead hours in the dark

And she's awake again

Tearing her own heart to shreds

She holds back

No one should hear

She doesn't know why

She can't reach out.

She wants to be held

She forgot what it felt like

Now being touched burns

She holds back

Because she's so close

To Falling in on herself

She doesn't want collateral

She rocks herself

Hums a lullaby

With hollow eyes, empty smiles

Tomorrow morning

she'll pick herself up again

"There's nothing more."

She dug, ignoring his declaration.

Her tools were kindness and submission, brow sweat was the work of loins and tears of joyful pain.

"There must be something buried deeper," her statement hung between them like a question, suspended by threads of hope.

He smiled, looking away.

She found bedrock.

Grunting, she chiseled, looking for something beautiful buried in stone.

Sparks flew and faded. Weary, she looked up at him from the hole so like a grave.

Shallow, but deeper than she knew, it was a wound that would never heal.

"Cover us up," he said, moving on.

Comfortable. Crushing. Enveloping. Loneliness is the first discomfort you feel, the first warning sign in your life that you might be in danger. Mother returns and all is well. She leaves and it slides back around your neck, resting heavily on your shoulders.

After some years, it feels like it has always been there. And in a way, it has. It never quite left. In the absence of others, it wraps itself around you more and echos your thoughts back to you. You’ll never be alone as long as you have yourself. The inverse gradually becomes true, as well: you’ll only feel like yourself as long as you’re alone.

Friends and lovers come and go, leaving behind scars and closing the gate to the world just a bit more on their way out. Each person lost makes it easier to breathe in loneliness’ embrace. Being alone feels more natural when you lean into it. Eventually, it’s all you feel.

You’ll encounter people who love the burden wrapped around your shoulders and encourage it to sink its roots into you. Their presence hurts in a familiar way. You will hold onto that comfortable feeling, that lifelong friend that is loneliness, and never want to let go.

Letting go means being truly alone. It means losing the one constant that has followed you throughout your life and delving into an uncertain world with more promise than you ever imagined. This is your new discomfort, but once you get past it, the world is finally yours to explore and love deeply. You need to break your comfortable ties with loneliness and keep moving forward through the tension to find your peace — one that will never weigh heavily on your shoulders.

Loneliness is an orphan watching a mother snuggle their biological child, singing them lullabies.

It's a child making a fathers day gift at school that has no father or a child unwanted by their parents.

It’s never knowing what it's like to have a hug from a parent who loves you.

It is nobody celebrating you, but sitting in the back seat of a workers car, going to another foster home.

Loneliness is nobody to protect you from bad people, crying when nobody rescues you.

Loneliness is a home you will never have.

Loneliness is having to step out into the world alone with nothing to your name.

Loneliness is being alone but not by choice.