People like to underestimate the effect loneliness has on a person. The hollow, helpless feeling one feels when waking up to the sound of complete and utter silence.
I'm not naive, or stupid, or making up excuses. I did this to myself, but how do I get out? I don't. I've always been afraid of only once thing: being alone. Even when I was little.
And now I face that fear, every day. I lose. Some days are fine. Happiness and serenity follow me on those few, blessed days. Most days, however, leave me with such a stale taste.
I'm not the first to wonder, "If I died today, would anyone notice?" I won't be the last.
I have friends, and I have family. So why is it that I feel this way? Who knows.
I miss the way it was before. When life was good. When life was easy. Before the quiet.
Fighting to stay happy is not living. Faking around those I love is not living. Wondering why I even bother is not living.
But I will try to get better. To heal whatever had broken inside me. I made a promise to myself, and even if it feels impossible.
I will stop at nothing, to just be happy. To stop worrying about every little thing. To live easily like once before. I will do it. I can do it.