Loneliness is a strange thing.
It is a beast that few of us are ever strong enough to keep away.
Some of us are naturally resilient to the dreaded empty feeling. They are the ones who will carry a false sense of security and break at the most inopportune moment.
Others become weathered and calloused over time. They are the ones who have fenced with themselves for far too long and don't know why they bother anymore.
Unfortunately, most succumb to the emotion. They are the ones who crack. They are the ones who cry out desperately late in the night for affection and solace and love.
Love is a strange thing.
Though we may train all of our lives to protect ourselves against the darkness of humanity, the tiny needle of being alone will find our Achilles heel and stab us. It will stab us again and again until someone finally notices the chink in our armor.
But sometimes, no one ever notices; people rarely comprehend the true nature of loneliness. Loneliness isn't just when you're alone: it's when you feel like no one is there. It's when you feel unwanted, even when you thrust your heart out for the world to share. It's when I feel like people love me, but they still believe my halfhearted lies of being okay.
I am a strange thing.