All of Me

I am lonely.

Funny, how hard that is to write. It makes me feel even more vulnurable, but there it is. It's weird that our culture allows for all kinds of sentences.

"I made a mistake."
"I'm an alcoholic."
"I killed my wife."

But somehow, admitting one is lonely is not really talked about. Behind closed doors it is hard to admit even to myself, let alone share it with other people. But I figured, I might as well say it. It's true. Yes, I have lots of friends. And parents who love me, and brothers who care. But it is not the same.

I'm tired of going to sleep alone every night. I'm tired of never having a shoulder to lay on while I watch tv. I wish I had someone's hand to hold sometime, somebody to hug. A person to call when I've had an awful day. A person who wants to make me feel better for that bad day.Somebody to laugh with, cry with, a person that was unequivoically on my side.


I don't.

Never have, really.

Not sure I ever will.

And that sentence was almost as hard to write as that first one.
I don't beleive in soul mates. Or the pomp and circumstance surronding a big wedded affair. After all, it's not about your outfit you wear to the party, it's more about who's going with you.

Not sure how to wrap this up in a pretty bow, so I'll just exit quietly, shutting the door on my way out.