Doesn’t matter if I’m in a relationship or not, sometimes when I went back to my room and lay down on my bed; I just felt so lonely. Have you ever felt that way? Did you ever feel that you have no one to rely on but yourself? Yourself is the only person who knows what you have been through, and knows what’s your feelings and emotions were in the worst situation. Every time I talk about my feelings with someone, they always say they understand what it feels like. However, that is not true, no one has been through something terrible like you do. They’re not you, they don’t know what your pains feel like. Everyone is busy with their own problem, which doesn’t have time to help you. At this point, you realize you are the only person left holding yourself up and keep walking every single day. I always told myself that it was just progress of becoming a stronger me, but it’s really lonely. Even I found the joy of being on myself, loneliness is still bothering me sometimes.
A couple days ago, my friend said to someone that it triggered her seeing couples affectionate in public, because it reminded her of how her ex wasn’t around anymore.
I added onto the conversation by saying that’s how I felt the past three years, not the missing an ex, but about being affected by seeing couples in public.
She responded by saying it wasn’t the same and I understood it wasn’t the same; that I haven’t experienced letting go of someone you’ve loved for so long.
But, being alone the whole time sucks just as much and I wish she understood that, because she pushed my feeling aside as if it didn’t matter how I have been feeling for most of my high school years.
The last three years, I watched my best friends fall in love and have boyfriends who loved them just as much and I was all alone. My subconscious constantly reminded me that they would always choose their boyfriends first, that they would always love them more. I don’t really blame them, though. If I had someone like that and a relationship like that in my life, I’d probably feel the same way, act the same way, and be the same way. It still hurts being the fifth wheel, instead of simply beinga friend. It still hurts knowing no one would feel that way about me. I knew they were happy, though, and I supported their happiness. But, all I wanted was that they knew the slightest bit how it felt for me.
I’m always the one to say I don’t care about relationships. I say that I’m not clingy enough to be a girlfriend or that I’m too focused on friendships, academics, and equestrian to even think about being in one. In reality, that was a big, fat lie. I guess it’s not the relationship itself I craved, but wishing to be someone’s treasure or world, to have someone love me as much as I love them, even for a short period of time. I hope they’re thankful for it forever, even if it wasn’t permanent, because it’s something I’ve never experienced yet.
I can tell that where I am is hot, but I feel so cold.
I taste blood. My eyes have blindfold over them, but I can tell I can’t open my eyes.
I try to reach out, but my hands are tied behind me. I try to walk, but my feet aren’t on the ground. I am alone in this room, hanging from the ceiling. My clothes have been taken off, I have blood dripping down my face and onto my chest. I hear it drop onto the cement floor.
Drip drop, drip drop, drip drop.
It’s hard to keep my eyes open.
I keep fading in and out of consciousness. Swaying back and forth from this chain. I can’t move. I can’t scream. I have a sock shoved in my mouth to keep my quiet. I knew I shouldn’t have followed that stupid piece of s**t dealer, but I’m too f*****g stupid to leave something alone.
Now I’m in this room. Humiliated, naked, beaten, bloody, bruised, and cold. I have no idea if I’ll ever leave this place.
Tears mix with my blood and they run into my mouth, just being sopped up by this sock.
Where was her mother, her father, her sisters, her brothers?
Was she in their thoughts? Was it only her?
Soon, she could think of nothing. Her mind drew blank.
She faced the white, chalky wall atop her tall bunk bed, the railings red and bright. Her lungs were heavy. One breath in. One breath out.
Was this what her 13 years of life had come to?
Another deep breath out.
She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would take over. She whispered a prayer to God that someone would find her, that she might find herself.
How silly she was to think she was alone in the midst of this struggle. How narrow minded, how blind to the future she was.
Because beneath her, with an obnoxious rustle of the sheets, a skinny girl with young, wispy hair and her insistent tapping, made it clear that she was not alone.
And just like that, without words, the little girl gave her the strength she needed.
OVS Journalism Blog 
