loneliness and her interpretations

loneliness is a weird thing. 

the thought of going to college 

leaving all my friends and family behind, terrifies me. 

meanwhile the thought of having to leave my room,

get out of bed

walk down the stairs,

and fake smile at my family terrifies me too. 

i am terrified of loneliness, but i love being alone. 

it’s a bullshit predicament. 

because the days where my only priority is watching project runway under my blankets feels like a blessing. 

the days where i can wake up to a peaceful house 

where the only noise is the sound of my bed, creaking

as i roll over to avoid the sun beaming in my eyes. 

where the only communication, is that unspoken bond between me and my dog. 

those days are bliss. 

but then there’s the days

where i check my phone 20 times in 5 minutes. 

5 minutes turns to 5 hours

which feels like forever for no one to want to talk to you. 

where all your friends are together while you’re at home 

because no one bothered asking if you wanted to come in the first place.  

where days off feel like countdowns to your fading away. 

where laying in your bed no longer feels like a sanctuary it feels like a coffin. 

where the once peaceful silence now sounds like never ending pounding reminding you how worthless you are. 

lonely. 

the six letter word that couldn’t confuse me more if it tried. 

the feeling that brings me euphoria and distress. 

so to loneliness i’ll finish with this:

the next time you find yourself weaseling into my project runway marathon

or manifesting yourself into my paranoia, please consider instead that 

maybe i wanted to be alone. 

maybe my friends aren’t ignoring me.

maybe my bed, can just be the bed i know so well,

maybe deafening silence is just simply, tranquility and not a countdown to oblivion.

so to this weird thing,

to the faulty translator of my life:

your twisted interpretation of my happiest moments can hurt me no longer.

 

loneliness for me 

will forever be bliss. 

p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Helvetica Neue'}
p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; min-height: 14.0px}

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741