Loneliness is a new companion on my journey. When the still air suffocates me in silence I recall its foul cousin, isolation, the whispering sadist and apex of an invisible ménage à trios I felt when coupled but not whole, and gauge Loneliness fair and honest company, a friend even. It neither judges nor scolds me, it takes me as I am and not how it wishes or imagines me to be, and lets me go in love when rejected.
How I wish I’d found its friendship earlier! How many torments of false intimacy would I have been spared? I’m certain there were now-uncountable drops of lifeblood, each sucked out of me like mosquitoes attacking warm breath at dusk, with bites leaving itchy welts I scratched until I bled anew while malarial fevers wracked me.
My fever broken, I began anew, empty, full of promise, eager for new confidantes and mutual explorations upon the path. But for now, Loneliness and I travel together in conversation, thunderous in our quietude and gentle in our demeanor.
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