Whos Loneliness Is Up Manifesting Itself As A Prolonged, Deep Pain In Their Chest?

Who’s loneliness is up manifesting itself as a prolonged, deep pain in their chest?

I let go. I let go. I understand. These things do not belong to me. I can keep only one thing. My love. Not what I have loved. Those things are long gone. I can keep my love. It cannot be held, though. It can only be felt.

I used to be a good ghost. I knew how to become invisible. I did well occupying empty corners, nodding but never uttering a word in the midst of lively conversation. I understood what it meant to sit back quietly, to watch the world unfold around me but to have no part in its unfolding. I am not as good at it now. I am angry. I am sad. I am hungry. I want to stand in the middle of the room, I want to join in the conversation. I want to force them to be aware of the sound of my voice. I want them to have to look me in the eye. I want to be seen. I am not a good ghost.

Every single month I am like “wow why am I going insane? I actually want to k*ll myself. I cannot be alive. I cannot do anything. I am the loneliest person in the entire universe.” And then I look at my tracker and it’s like “period in 1 day”

my heart is filled with such deep, irrevocable desire for you. for your delicate touch, for your angelic voice, for the light in your eyes. desire, desire, desire. such a light and romantic word. it does the real thing no justice. desire is enormous, expansive, cannibalistic, consuming. I love you to the point of destruction. I want for you so much that it kills me—do you understand? I eat my heart.

She is an angel. I am sure of it. I was so close to death, toeing the line, drifting further and further into the darkness with each passing day. You could hardly tell the difference between me and a ghost. My body was fading along with my life. But then, I saw her face. I looked into her eyes which restored my pale skin to a fruitful, revitalized color. I felt her skin, warm and beating, against mine, and I felt alive again. Maybe more alive than I had ever been from the start. I heard her voice, filled with the rarest, truest essence of life, something that could not be found in anyone else. Her laughter—the sweetest, most wild sound that filled any room it embodied—made me whole again. made me holy again. She restored me, she made me alive. She created me.