DYSPHORIA


Loneliness is a strange sort of thing. It creeps on you, quiet and still, sits by your side in the dark, strokes your hair as you sleep. It wraps itself around your bones, squeezing so tight that you almost can’t breathe. It leaves lies in your heart, lies next to you at night, leaches the light out of every corner. It’s a constant companion, clasping your hand only to yank you down when you’re struggling to stand up. You wake up in the morning and wonder who you are. You fail to fall asleep at night and tremble in your skin. You doubt, you doubt, you doubt. And even when you’re ready to let go, when you’re ready to break free, when you’re ready to be brand-new... Loneliness is an old friend who stands beside you in the mirror, looking you dead in the eye, challenging you to live your life without it. You can’t find the words to fight yourself, to fight the words screaming that you’re not enough, never enough, never ever enough. Loneliness is a bitter, wretched companion. Sometimes it just won’t ever let go.


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