the void
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.
Silent Reverie
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.
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
hollow nights
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
Uncovered (a drabble)
"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.
My Old Friend
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.
The Unwanted
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.