The Hate Of Loneliness.

It was agonising, the loneliness. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, the way it wrapped around me like a black blanket. I tasted the emptiness on my tongue, heard nothing but the deafening silence in the room. The urge to hop from the warm embrace of my bed and scream grew with every tick of the brown clock mounted on the wall and eventually I did. I hopped up and I screamed, in a pillow of course. I screamed in frustration for the lonely feeling building in my stomach. I screamed for the burning sensation crawling up my chest and engulfing my heart.  I hated it, the loneliness. 

Then suddenly that frustration turned into rage. Hot red rage that had me tearing the room apart. I pulled and I threw and I crushed. I wanted to do anything but sit on that cold bed and feel the solitude. I wanted to be occupied so I wouldn't remember that I was alone. The rage was the last resort before I succumbed to tears. They trickled down my cheek past my lips and onto my lap. Yes, I was alone with no friends, no family, nothing. This was what it felt like to be alone and I absolutely hated it.

By

Nia