It’s back, stronger than ever before.
I would call it loneliness, but it’s way stronger. More bitter. It’s more like a never-ending hollowness inside, where you feel like your stomach has been burdened with a brick wall. And the bricks never stop appearing.
At some point, you’d love to collapse. You seek the deepest feelings, the ones that once made you cry for a whole night.
And then it strikes; the things that once shattered you no longer have control over you.
You beg for tears to wash away the agony, but they won’t come out. And that, my dear, is how you know you got severely fucked up.
And you start asking yourself random questions: Am I broken? Am I fixable? Do I have any control over this? What was the root of all of this?
And the point here is not searching for answers, but instead turning around in a vicious circle you can’t escape- until the diziness takes over.
And then it strikes again- what we call loneliness just because we’re unable to put it in words.