loneliness isn’t quiet.
that’s the lie people tell about it.
it’s loud in all the wrong ways—
in the way the room feels too big,
in the way your thoughts echo back at you like they’re mocking the fact that there’s no one else there to hear them.
it’s reaching for your phone and realizing there’s no one you actually want to text—
or worse, no one who would answer in the way you need.
it’s carrying entire conversations in your head
because you don’t have anywhere safe to put them out loud.
and the worst part?
it doesn’t go away when you’re around people.
sometimes it’s sitting in a room full of noise
and still feeling like you’re behind glass,
watching everyone else exist in a world you can’t quite enter.
like there’s something wrong with you—
something just slightly off—
that keeps you from being chosen,
kept,
understood.
i think that’s what loneliness really is.
not the absence of people,
but the absence of being known
in a way that feels real.
and once you’ve felt that kind of emptiness,
it follows you.
into crowded rooms,
into conversations,
into love.
especially into love.
