The Shroud Of Loneliness


She know those who care.

But when she’s all by herself, she can’t help but still feel the slight empty, hollow feeling inside of her. She doesn’t understand it. She doesn’t understand why this feeling even exist. Maybe that’s why she goes out by herself to try to fix herself when she knows it isn’t the right way to fix herself. She knows how broken she is but she tries to mend it, to glue it, to plaster it up, and to cover it up in any way that she can all by herself.

Secretly, she wishes she can find home outside even though she knows the uncertainties and dangers but temptations are there. The signs are unwaveringly inviting, with beams that look warmer than anything else by her side. She’s so close to fall into a trap. She knows it. She craves it. She’s slowly letting go of the strings holding her back inch by inch. The ripped jeans, the tight leather skirts, the high heels, the dark eyeliner, the red lipstick, the bottles, the glasses, the smell, the laughter, the let-me-pretend-I’m-having-fun-dancing and, the influence of the people she don’t know are all pulling her closer and closer to pure bliss and oblivion.

She grins sarcastically at anyone who thinks they can get to her as she plays along, pulling them into a trap of her own, messing them up. She’s not that innocent after all.

Unsurprisingly, she feels lonely in a class of ten. Only the eleventh makes the difference but the eleventh doesn’t need to know about this. She never wants the eleventh to know. But even then, the eleventh makes her feel so lonely sometimes. Or maybe it’s all in her head but either ways, the dark side is always there for her. It is ever so patient to claim her again to leave an imprint so dark it feels warm and right. She wants to be bad so badly now.

That leaves so many unanswered questions in her mind but there’s one that stays in her head, owning its place in her head.

It whispers, “What am I doing here?”

All she wants to do is to go so badly sometimes. She wants to break into a run and just hide. She wants to scream. She wants to feel something. Anything at all so she bruise it up or bleed it out.

The next day, she wakes up early just to take the difficult way to her destination just to avoid possible conversations and to avoid bothering anyone else. She watches people walk past her and wonder how their lives are like.

“Are they happy with their lives or are they miserable like I am?” she wonders.

“They definitely look better than I do anyways,” she continues on, talking to herself in her head all day long, aware that the voices in her head never stops. No matter where she is, the voices are accompanying her loudly and repetitively, showing her different scenes of what could have been different.

She sees flashbacks of things she has seen and is uncomfortable of but she can never do or say anything about it for the fear of losing something priceless. Hence, she compromises most of the time and pretends it doesn’t affect her at all.

At the end of the day, she doesn’t want companion. She needs it. She knows it but it cannot be from just anyone. But even so, she pushes it away because when she needs it, it never is the right time so music temporarily fills the empty void, bringing her back to life, recharging her energy and healing her mental state like a battery pack.

At the same time, she wants to go out so badly to do something so bad for once. She wants to be so insane that she won’t recognize herself anymore but instead, she lays in bed, silent tears falling because being here is so difficult. Her heart aches as she lets out a deep sigh. It’s the sign of weariness in every single aspect.

And the cycle goes on and on.

As much as she wants to make it… she doesn’t know how much more she can take.

And if loneliness can be felt when she’s around people, she might as well go home and be alone.



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