I feel so lonely sometimes.
It doesn’t take over anymore like it used to. In the past, I used to see loneliness as an endless, soundless black sea. In the middle: me, on a raft. I wasn’t in danger on the raft, wasn’t fighting to hold on. In fact, I was so safe, I just sat there motionless, resigned, surrounded by black water and air.
The times when I would start to see myself in it were scary, and I tried to keep busy to forget it. But when I centered myself again, I was there.
Now, when I get lonely, I’m not on a raft anymore. It’s not endlessly hopeless like it used to be. Now it’s more like me twisted in a glass box of logic. I’m alone in the box, but all sides seem to point to the same message when I fidget: “Everyone gets lonely now and then; today is just one of those days, and tomorrow ill be better as it always is,” they seem to say. “And besides, it’s a few days before your period.”
It’s all about perspective, and refocusing perspective when it’s out.