Stream of Conciousness

[Degorram]

I'm sitting here. She's lying on the bed behind me. And I can hear her crying.

 

It's probably the fourth or fifth time today that she has shed tears. today Her eyes are swollen and painful...just like mine are, actually. Except I stopped crying a few hours ago. There's just not enough left in me to give a flip about it.

 

But it does hurt. It hurts badly. And all I want, more than anything in the world, is for someone to hold me, to pretend like they want me, to make sure that I'm ok. I'm not ok. She's not ok. We're not ok.

 

Not that anyone notices.

 

The world is growing cold and dark outside. Depression is one thing -- it just magnifies everything you're feeling. Despair is closer: it takes a hold of you with iron claws and rips the very soul out of your body. But loneliness? There's nothing more dangerous or physically oppressive than true loneliness.

 

I say true loneliness because everyone feels lonely at some point in their lives. People come and go, and we all have times where we wish there was someone by our sides. It's a horrible feeling. But true loneliness grips you. It tears at you. Your heart beats fast and heavy, you can't get your breath, and a huge weight pushes you down wherever you are -- the bed...the chair...the floor. And over all the thought that you're the only person left in the entire world -- the thought that no one would give a crap if you died right then -- the thought that darkness, warm and silent, would be preferable to the maddening loneliness that gnaws at you -- all of these thoughts consume your silent mind until you can't even breath anymore.

 

You force yourself to get up, if you have the will to go on. I do. I very much so do. I know that this will pass, and that I'll laugh in their faces afterward. A week, a month, years, no matther. It's all just a drop in the bucket.

 

But meanwhile...enduring it....that's the hard part. And I have to get away. And I have to find that one person left in the world -- my world -- who still loves me. Who will give me a hug, the best hug in the world, when he sees me. Who will always listen to me, even if what I'm saying is angry, or sad, or makes no sense at all. He'll listen. Because he cares.

 

She's stopped crying now. Audibly, that is. I don't know how we'll get on through the night. We'll push. But it's hard to carry the weight of all that silence. It's hard to get up in the morning and face other people, knowing that as soon as you leave their sight it will be as if you never existed.

 

All shooting stars are beautiful. But who ever remembers them?

[Wyvern]

Sorry I didn't notice this here earlier, Dego. :-( I definitely sympathize with the feeling of isolation and loneliness, as it's pulled me down quite a few times before in similar ways and still does occasionally. I think it's just important to remember that there are many people out there who DO care and love you, regardless of how seldomly they express it. It's also sometimes a comfort to consider that there are many people who have tons of buddies and friends who are still lonely at heart, it's not that uncommon a thing and I think that many here can relate to it. Anyway, I hope that you and your friend feel much better since having written this, I'm happy that I know you and really hope that you're doing well. Please remember that, while I might not be as quick to respond as I used to be, I'm still here to talk to should you need someone in that regard. :-)

 

And shooting stars are pretty to look at, but people change other people's lives.

 

Wyvern sighs a sigh that smells of almost dragon smoke and rolls his eyes over his incoherent speal, deciding to end it in favor of wrapping Dego up in a big winged hug.

[Degorram]

Thanks for the hug Wyv. It all worked out in the end after all...