Being Alone

How does someone truly know that they're alone?

Is it when they look down at the small device they use as a means of communication, and see no messages, no alerts that someone is curious how they're doing? Is it when they realize they don't actually do anything, that they don't go outside for fun, they don't meet up with friends to have dinner, or even a date planned as a special night with family?

Is it when they're laying alone at night, wishing there was someone beside them to hold them, or lightly draw random swirls and designs on their skin, or even to muffle the sobs that explode after a day's stress? Is it when they realize their "friends" don't actually know anything real about them, only the superficial -- birthday, favorite color/band/book/movie? 

So how does someone know they're truly and utterly alone?

Is it when they're surrounded by masses of people, at work or school, and they still think, 'Man, there's no one here I know,' or 'I wish someone would even say hello.' Is it when they look in a book, or sketch book, or other such thing, and see nothing but meaningless things, stories and drawings that have no attachment to them whatsoever?

Is it when they look into the world, and the life around them, and realize that there's darkness lurking in every corner, in every human psyche around them, swirling listlessly, anxiously, dangerously? Or maybe it's when their family only barely notices that they're not totally alright, days, weeks, months after whatever happened, happened. They suddenly notice a sullen person in their midst, making their way through life, not seeing the path ahead, simply taking automatic, autopilot steps in the general direction of the end of the road.

Perhaps they realize they're alone when they realize how much they've pushed away the people around them, scared to let others in to see the meek child hidden beneath the years of worldly torment and suffering, afraid to be hurt once more. Even walking down the corridors somewhere, and deciding music is the best escape, listening to it endlessly, never just listening to the sounds around them.

Maybe even the opposite; when everything is in its natural decibel, and people are milling about, laughing with others, or towing a petulant child about. Maybe someone truly feels the most alone when they're staring at the razor that could make them feel something, or the knife that could end it all, or the pills to help them just fall away in slumber. They stare at it, wondering how long it would take to be discovered, how long it would take to miss them floating aimlessly through life. 

And then... They can't really think of a single person who would well and truly miss them, who would completely shatter at the thought of no longer having them there. They feel no pain anymore, because everything is numbed from the aftershocks of enlightenment, and all they want is someone to even look at them in the eyes... 

That's when they know they're truly alone.