The boy got back home after a very long day. He threw himself on the bed, "finally, time to rest" he said. The boy closed his eyes wanting to get some sleep, but he somehow felt scared. He can't figure out why so he opened his eyes again.
"Is it because of the dark?" he wondered. The boy turned on the bedside lamp and closed his eyes, but the boy still feel scared, so he opened his eyes again.
"Is it because of the silence?" he wondered. The boy started humming his favorite song as he gently pat himself. He closed his eyes once more, but he opened them again. The boy is still scared.
"Maybe I'm not tired enough?" he wondered. The boy stood up and played by himself. He played, he played, he played, and he played. The boy got so tired and went back to his bed.
He fell asleep.
The next day, the boy finally understands it— why he turned the lamp on, why he hummed and pat himself, why he always tire himself out.
He turned the lamp on because he somehow want someone to see him, he hummed and pat himself because he wanted someone to comfort him, and he tire himself out because he wanted to forget about all of it. He want to sleep but he doesn't want to sleep alone again.
The boy was never scared, he's lonely.
—𝒅𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒆
