Loneliness is running up a mountain because it is what someone else would want you to do. Loneliness is doing it quickly for a good pace and a good finishing time, which you can brag about later. Loneliness is turning right back around and racing back to the start.
Being alone? Well, that’s different. Being alone means you run up the mountain because you like to run up mountains. You stop and walk when you’re tired because you can.. and should. You stop and take pictures or take in the scenery whenever you feel like it. Being alone means you don’t have anyone else to consider in your pace or your goals; you do what you want, when you want and hopefully, you enjoy yourself to the fullest; alone. We all need to be alone sometimes.
The funny thing about loneliness is how very little it has to do with actually being alone.
The saddest, truest kind of loneliness seeps in when you least expect it. It arrives silently: while lying in the arms of your lover, measuring the frequency of their hand as it runs back and forth, up and down, caressing the dimple of your thigh. It’s noticing the way their touch occasionally slows, falters – the way they’ve grown so easily distracted by the static, violent movements of their video game, the one you bought them for their birthday.
It’s remembering the way your body once commanded their pulse to quicken, their heart to race. It’s how your touch once brought light to their eyes and tiny, dancing goose-bumps to the skin of their neck. Loneliness is is the pull-back to your lean-in, the hug to your kiss, the question to your…
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