threeinchestall

I am trying not to feel victimized, but detach myself from something that I poured endless emotions into. I haven't wanted to feel disconnected and certainly need to start sometime soon.
Sometimes in the middle of the night when everyone is fast asleep in their beds and even the city noise has quieted to a mere hum, I’ll lie awake and watch the darkness. I feel alone, but not when someone is holding me close to them, our limbs pressed together so tightly that not even an air particle can pass between us.
I am completely possessed, pretending and foolishly hugging my pillow tightly.
You can hold my hand and whisper soothing words in my ear, or catch a glimpse of me, and see the side effects of all this in the dark shadows beneath my eyes and my small, strained voice. And that cold chill that begins at my forehead and travels down my spinal chord, the pressure that pushes against my ribcage, that, you will never feel. That is mine. My plight is mine. My existence is mine. I am mine and mine alone.
And it’s a very wonderful thing sometimes knowing that every inch of me, every eyelash, every hair follicle, every skin cell is mine, and every exquisitely written memory of life belongs to me. Conversely, it is also where loneliness comes into the world. Being alone opens the door for loneliness.
I hate to say this, but nothing could be truer: existing is a very lonely business, but only if you make it that way.

-hannah