Living in Lonely

I don’t think of ‘lonely’ as a thing, rather as a state of being.



In the dictionary, lonely is defined as a person who is “sad because one has no friends or company.” Someone who is without companions. In my mind, that isn’t necessarily lonely.



Lonely is sort of like a place. Somewhere you find yourself visiting every once in a while, or maybe fairly often. Everyone experiences being lonely, but not everyone lives in it.



Lonely is a dark place; a place where happiness doesn’t exactly thrive. Light isn’t welcome there, and color can’t be seen. It sort of feels like being stuck in a tunnel; lost and frightening. Because you never know when you’ll find your way out. It’s almost like an endless cycle too, because every time you think you’ve found the light at the end of the tunnel, it dims. And then you’re left trying to find it once again.



Surprisingly, its easy to find yourself in Lonely. You struggle for a long while, but then you just stop fighting. You stop trying to escape. You let yourself go.



Even though its extremely easy to find Lonely, its really hard to get out. It’s almost impossible, and sometimes I wonder what the use is in trying. Why not just give up?