An Open Letter To Loneliness

It’s a few minutes past midnight and I’m on the bathroom floor, hugging his jacket so close to my chest just so I could somehow fill this empty void. I am okay, I tried to force myself to choke in between sobs. I feel like vomiting your entirety so I could finally be clean. There are butterflies crawling their way out of my throat and into my hands as I type this: I am too much of chaos and destruction that I can’t even blame anyone if sometimes they don’t understand. You are always simply there with me.

How do you breathe when you’re drowning? I close my eyes and wonder when will you ever leave.

I honestly think we go way back, you and I. When I was a kid I would refuse to go in class and instead play alone  by the sandbox. I didn’t want to be around people, I wanted to be with you. Even when I was a little bit older and surrounded by people whom I had the audacity to call my friends, I wanted to be with you. Alone. Perhaps I had grown fond over your company so much that I would even miss you when you’re not there. I would feel incomplete. I would even feel that I am incapable of creating something out of my hands.

I once thought you were maddeningly beautiful. What a lie I’ve lived.

You have become everything that I am throughout the years I’ve spent with you and I didn’t even realize it. You creep through my thoughts and wash over me at night, and I would feel sick to my stomach, wanting to drown myself in pills and count the blinking lights until they blind my eyes. I would try to mask this as I chip off red nail polish on my toes, pretending that I’m fine.

You hold all my thoughts and echo them back through a thousand thunderstorms. You hold a tarpaulin of expectations I could not reach. You are an ocean that takes me in wave after wave. You remind me of everything I couldn’t be.

We are not really friends. We never were. But you won’t leave me, no matter how much I try. The sun rises and the sun sets, and I simply learned how to live with you.

So now I wipe my eyes and dust off my knees. In order for me to fall asleep, I count the shadows on my walls instead of sheep. (Like you, they’ve always been familiar to me since I was a kid.) I simply got used to not treating you like a basket full of laundry that I could tumble dry and wash fresh in my washing machine. I have learned that things won’t be fine with me even if I try to scrub you clean. And when someone thinks I’m helpless, I remind them that you’re not a broken toy that could be easily fixed.

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About the author

Cara is a coffee enthusiast who currently lives in the beautiful island of Oahu, Hawaii. Some of her written works are published on Eternal Remedy, Inflection, Thought Catalog, and her online blog, Paper Antlers. When she's not rereading Harry Potter for the nth time, she likes to dabble on literature, film, art, and music.


We are more than stolen moments and lowered whispers. More than thoughts and ringing ears we can always...

For the eerie unsung melodies 
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