A Letter to the Lonely

When you use something as an escape, it becomes an addiction. The bliss of the high that makes the sky feel reachable, while the anticipation can only lead to one place, the end.

Sometimes our ability to imagine can only be one thing, the step we take to fall into nothingness.

As a child, reading was my greatest gift. Now it's the needle that gets me through the eternity of life.

I see my future, so vivid in its bleakness, where loneliness can only be an inevitability. As if it's not already guaranteed.

The word 'should' reigns eternal. My mind chaos and actions non-existent.

All it takes is a step, a word, an action. So why am I paralysed?

If only someone would listen, or notice.

Why would they even care to.

What does it matter.

It's as it always has been.

There's no one here.

Just me.

Alone.

Forever.