Dear Loneliness,

I know I’ve tried to pretend that you don’t exist. How I tried to pretend the you weren’t there in the shadows as me and Solitude spent increasing time together. I tried to believe that I was invincible to such human desires, as if I had evolved beyond that need.  I tried to believe that you would not be around even as I constantly hang out with your fraternal twin, Solitude.

But you were. I wouldn’t mind it if you occasionally stop by with Solitude every so often, but your lurking presence is grating. I’m not sure what to do with you, or me for that matter.

I’m sorry for ignoring you. It’s just that I thought I evolved past the need for trivial social bonds with a living creature (usually of own species but not necessarily but I haven’t been successful in either fronts).  I guess I haven’t. Not really though I’ve been desensitized to it. If you repeat something enough, it may not be any more true than it was initially but maybe it will seem more true (it probably won’t seem any less true).

So I finally I admit that you are here, hiding in the corners of my walls and in the shadows. I tried to pretend that you weren’t there, tried to pretend that I didn’t see you. But there you are.

Loneliness, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. But I know that I am not immune to your grasp as much I tried to believe I was. Maybe you’ll have me. Maybe you won’t. I don’t know.

Sincerely, Jen

 

 

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