Not really sure what this is, just a little something I cranked out and wanted to post. For a character background story or for something a little closer to home, your choice, but you know, out with it (*ahem* as in tell me how great/terrible/horrifying it is)
Lovely, thank you, darlings!
Description: Loneliness never really goes away
For as long as I can remember, loss has been the most predominant part of my life. Memories gone by of funerals, of days where the house was empty, so empty sitting alone felt like the most normal thing in the world. Perhaps it all started early on, a childhood idea, just a thought that blossomed into this all-consuming terrifying feeling that never goes away, an idea that wrote its own wings and flew away, taking a part of myself that I never even knew, with it.
That all seems a bit dramatized though.
If I really focus in on the cause, I know it well. It all began in the late 1990s, when the word cancer meant certain death. When a figure in my life, someone that I cherished, was diagnosed. As a child, you don’t realize how quickly life goes by. But I see now. Days in hospitals turned into hours, seconds even that I was not with her. Weekends spent away from home because she was probably sick from radiation treatment translating into time without her.
By the time I grasped the finality of it, it was too late. That is why even now, when I got the chance to say goodbye on the night she died, I don’t feel as though we did. I feel empty. Diseased. Poisoned. The grief sometimes sickens me to the point where I just sit alone crying and I want to vomit, why couldn’t I have been smarter, realized sooner? The loss feels like this giant black hole inside of me that sucks up anything lovely and replaces it with this black cold.
And it doesn’t go away. No matter how many friends I surround myself with, no matter how many letters I write or how many characters I create. It never does. The moment I find myself alone, if only for a second, it’s like a blow to the chest. And at school that isn’t a problem, because I have friends, fantastic friends. Friends that don’t know how much their time helps me. It’s home that’s the problem, but it’s also me.
The emptiness shouldn’t be comforting, but it is. Because in a sense, it’s one of the only constants I’ve carried in my life so long that anything else is frightening and confusing. I make myself alone, I create situations where I stand alone among people. That strange feeling where you are surrounded by people but feel so utterly alone that you want to curl into a ball and cry.
I know it. I know it well. The emptiness that digs a hole in your heart so deep that nothing seems to fill it. The cries that are lost in the darkness because you are too frightened to let someone see how damaged you find yourself, because normal people don’t feel this way. The acting, the masking tape that covers the hole that seems to change the person you are. Or that you ignore it, that you honest-to-God pretend that it’s all a lie. You don’t feel like this, that it’s just another mask. But that backfires so soon you wouldn’t even believe.
Loneliness never really goes away.