Loneliness differs from aloneness.
Its sting runs deep and hurts longer.
Aloneness is far more forgiving.
It can sometimes soothe and replenish.
Loneliness, however, atrophies the soul.
Loneliness flourishes when you cling to someone
who is present but completely absent.
It comes when closeness stifles;
restrains spontaneity and forces you to stop feeling;
when you bury your truths to keep them safe.
Loneliness is real.
It is an octopus. It thrives in silence
and multiplies when you are present yet alone together.
Loneliness is smiling deafeningly to fight back tears.
It is learning to mask emptiness while pretending
that closeness fills you although it empties your soul.
Loneliness is being frequently misheard
even when you do not speak.
It is feeling safe only when you retreat into your sanctuary of silence;
when muscle memory tells you not to speak or react
because every word, intonation, and gesture…
will be dismembered to imply something else.
oneliness is holding on tightly but feeling entirely alone.
It is always smiling, laughing like a clown to disguise sadness,
and pretend because the show must go on.
It is making do with less than you deserve.
Loneliness is about settling, grinning through clenched teeth.
It is racing alone at full speed in a rocking chair.
It is abandoning dreams, and feeling too ashamed to admit
that the road you took might have led you down the wrong path.
Loneliness is being afraid to U-turn.
It is running on empty, while full on resentment
with torch held high,
long after its flames have withered and died…