The Lullaby

Why are some of us so painfully lonely? Not alone, but lonely. Death defyingly lonely. Suicidefully lonely. Demonstratively lonely. There are words wandering around the ether telling us don’t worry you are demonstrating a fictional abnormality in your dreamlike state. You are never really alone. Yet, it still feels intrinsically familiar deep down inside where no depths of any words can reach. We’re told to ignore. But it’s always with a frantic hunger that we desire the love that perhaps doesn’t exist for us. In the unknown, there is hell. In the unknown there is a presumptuous slither of hope that strings us along only to have us continue to live just in case, by some slim demarginalized chance of love. With this meaningless ideology we endure lifelessness. We endure a silent type of suffering. All because that nocturnal feeling of loneliness beguiles us in a most crafty way. We listen to its lies. We feel pain and cry. And we move like angels fallen from heaven. Betrothed to a world where directions can’t guide us home and the parameters of life and death grow thinner and thinner with each encroaching day. Some of us are so terribly lonely. And we will never find the love that we need. With our hands in our pockets our shadows fallow us home. Perhaps the only company that really matters in the long run. Our own company is the one that will fill that void in our hearts.