2nd person rambling exploring what loneliness feels like
You don’t know loneliness until you realize your only friend on campus has dozens of classmates and no time for you. You don’t know loneliness until you realize that friend doesn’t want you in public. You’re their secret. While they might deny it, you can feel it as you walk up to their circle of people all laughing at some joke. Your friend doesn’t look at you and doesn’t acknowledge your existence until they feel like it.
That, my friend, is loneliness. Being ignored, unwanted, wandering with strangers in a sea of familiar faces. On top of that, there’s no escape. This monster lurks at home. Your parents hardly notice you unless you venture out into the kitchen. Then they bombard you with useless information about their wants and needs, your mother more self-absorbed than you and your father oblivious to the hell wrapped around you. They’ll ask you questions that blow holes into the walls you put up and you desire to set them on fire.
The loneliness even dwells in your safe haven. The only two souls you know are imprinted everywhere in your room because you foolishly let them live there. And any friends you have exist inside squares floating in a world that’s a collection of lonely souls coded in binary. All this technology that’s supposed to bring us together only separates. But you don’t even talk to them because you’re so fucking lonely. Go irony.
But the thing that tears you apart at night, that keeps you awake for hours on end, is the thought that maybe, just maybe, this loneliness is all your fault.