I am all alone.
It is an early-childhood feeling. It is the feeling that no one wants to play with me. No one wants to sit with me at lunch. That I’ll be the last one to be sorted into a kickball team. I always was.
It is the feeling that everyone has their own friends, except for me.
It is the feeling that the people I value as friends don’t think of me the same way.
And that the people that do value me as a friend don’t really want to talk to me because they need some time to cool off.
It is the feeling that everyone thinks I’m too clingy and sassy and annoying, when all I want is someone to talk to. Because everyone else is busy with their own schedules.
It is the feeling that when I try to talk to people, they snap at me saying, “Can I talk to this person over here? Bye!”
Most of the time, this feeling is dormant. Sometimes it resurfaces for good reason, and other times it resurfaces on perfectly fine days. Today it woke up and yawned and screamed and tied me up and took a hammer to my poor head.