nudatlogit

I cannot think of a lonelier place – a place where one is hyperaware, over-empathetic, in need of anything; reassurance, a hug, to wipe the tears, to hold, to validate, to sit, anything… with no one to turn to. The realization that one must pick themselves up is one that is felt all too often, for one has always turned to a friend and to whom ever was willing to lend a shoulder. The realization that one must pick themselves up is like filling ones heart with sand… slowly, slowly, slowly until it creeps up into the throat and all one can do is hold in the cry and the tears for one does not want to continue to be perceived as someone who is constantly thinking the sky is falling – the sky is not falling for others. For others, the sky is blue with a passing thunderstorm, with rainbows, with snow, with wind, with sunshine, and fluttering wings. For others were taught to weather the weather; but, for one… one was left to feel the weather and try to understand it with only oneself.

What is one to do… what is one to do when one feels the burden one places on their loved ones, for other’s did not ask to be an available crutch near and far at the turn of a dime. One is expected to understand, but one was not taught how to understand. One is trying to understand. Though others do not understand the toll, the time, the trepidation, the tough tempo of the temptation of weeping on the hand of those who are around. One is trying to understand. There is no place lonelier than a place where one must accept one must stand up alone.

I can’t think of a lonelier place than a place where one wonders… where one wonders why one must turn to a friend, where one wonders why one’s family carries on without one, where one wonders why one is unworthy.

I can’t think of a lonelier place than a place where one made a singular selfish choice to chose oneself – for one was not prepared or equipped with the tools, knowledge, and understanding of what a safe place for oneself looks like. One’s safe place is distant and the walk to one’s safe place is exhausting and painful. Perhaps one knows the path they walk is the right path… and perhaps one had not realized how lonely that path is.

I can’t think of a lonelier place than a place where one had no choice but to be strong, to weather the weather one knew nothing about.

I can’t think of a lonelier place than the place where acceptance is out of reach, where empathy plays tug of war, where reflection is rampant, and where one must sit… sit with ones hand covering ones mouth to silence the heartache of loneliness.