Poetry On Being Alone Novels & Stories

In the stillness of the night, tears streamed down my cheeks unchecked, their silent descent a testament to the depth of my despair. For in that moment, alone in the darkness with only my thoughts for company, the full weight of my circumstances bore down upon me with crushing force. The realization that I would likely raise my child alone, without the support of a mate by my side, struck me like a blow to the heart, leaving me reeling in its wake.

My parents both gone. “Look, I know this is all extremely new to you and believe me if I were you, I’d be scared too. But all I can tell you is this. You’re not alone. You have four wonderful mates who love and adore you and a friend who won’t let anything bad happen to you while he’s here.” “But I am alone. That’s the thing you guys don’t get. You guys don’t see the things I see when I’m alone.” “Then tell us. Let us in.”

The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

I pulled my coat on finally and started walking. My heel caught between cobblestones and I stumbled, catching myself against a bench, the metal shocking against my palm. I stood there for a moment with my hand on the cold iron and the rain coming down and his words moving through me the way they had been moving through me for the past two hours, finding the hollow spaces and filling them with something I did not have a clean name for. Don't spend the rest of your life convincing yourself that loneliness is love. I pressed my palm harder against the bench and felt the cold of it and breathed.

The carousel was still there, spinning round as if nothing had changed. I bought a ticket and sat on the same familiar horse. The wind blew against my face. I closed my eyes. For a moment, I could still hear my daughter's laughter… and David warning me, "Be careful." This time, no one was with me. I rode alone. A wave of dizziness washed over me. I knew death was near. I forced my eyes open, but the world grew more and more blurred. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and used the last of my strength to dial a number I had not called in years.

I've been gone from California for nearly 48 hours and now I'm just here, all alone. Does anyone know what its like to feel completely alone? Even around people you have known for years but know that they don’t give a damn about what’s going on inside. That even when you feel you’re at your best you can’t seem to do anything right. Everything you do just doesn’t work out. You try your hardest and still fail. And no one is there to pick back up the broken pieces. Loneliness is a horrible thing. It’s a cold feeling. No one should ever have to feel lonely. It consumes you slowly shaking you.

I was still not sure what happen, and I wanted to talk to Michael like always and tell him what happen and take his thoughts from him. But today when he asked me to leave is when I understood that I was alone I was always alone I have always been for myself and this would not change why had I forgotten that very real fact of my life. That one thought of me being alone made me so tired that I drifted into deep sleep. ___________________________________________ * *******************

Still showed up with meals, even as her body broke down. She even gave him her bone marrow. Dr. Carter said it had to be done without anesthesia. And Elise was terrified of pain. Hemi's heart split open. The tears wouldn't stop. They used to dream about owning a little B&B one day. Swapping stories with strangers. Seeing the world together. So he took her. They saw northern deserts. Arctic lights. Ocean skies bursting with fireworks. He'd confessed to her once under a sky just like that. Their last stop was a tulip field.

For a text, maybe, something calm and final that would at least be a period at the end of this screaming sentence. By 9:00 PM, the last of the grey daylight had bled from the sky. The silence was no longer anticipatory; it was absolute, verdict. He wasn’t coming back. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. The hope curdled, leaving behind a familiar, acidic loneliness, far more potent than any hangover. I was adrift. Truly, utterly alone. And in that moment, there was only one port in the storm, no matter how strange or digital.

I hope some day I'll make it out of here Even if it takes all night or a hundred years Need a place to hide. But I can't find one nearby. Wanna feel alive, outside I can fight my fear. Isn't it lovely, all alone. Heart made of glass, my mind of stone. (I hope someday I can get out of here. Even if it takes all night or a hundred years. I need a place to hide. But I can't find one near. I want to feel alive, out there I can face my fear. Isn't it lovely, being alone? Heart made of glass, my mind of stone)