Alone

I have everything I could possibly want, and I think I’m happy. But then, one day, I’m walking down the street and it hits me - I’m alone. We say so many things, we think we’ve got people we love, we think they love us too…but how much of this is real? How much of it really matters, and won’t disappear like wisps of mist in the early morning sunshine? I’ve got people who care, I’ve got it all - we spend so much time with each other, we tell each other things that strike us in the deepest layers of thought…

But I’m alone. There’s no one…I mean, I don’t even know why I feel alone.

They’re right here, real, alive, standing in front of me with those well-meaning looks on their faces, thinking they understand and know, but do they?

How much of what I say is what I really mean, how much of what they see is really me?

I’m terrified of being alone, but…I don’t know. I can’t understand feeling this way, I just do.

It just strikes me that I can’t count on anyone, can’t trust anyone…but myself.