The Idea

I had gotten used to being alone. I had moved far away from those who I would have once considered friends. I knew they were never real, just there out of circumstance. I realised I never belonged. Growing out of my teens, being alone gave me time to reflect on all the pain I had endured from people. Forced to continue living in the shackles of the traumatic past, never letting me walk free. In a way, loneliness has been bittersweet, allowing me to grow and search for all the missing pieces that were forced to be silent. The love I never felt, the trust I never had, the safety I was never given. I have been forced to carry everything alone, forced me to keep myself going even when I was crumbling, but I feel more lost then ever, like I am too much for people, that I feel too much. Maybe that’s why I’ll always be alone. The more I search for them, the friends I yearn for that choose me, that aren’t afraid to show love, that put in the same effort and care… they may never come. And I continue to drown in that thought of loneliness everyday.