The Loneliness No One Talks About
No one really talks about the kind of loneliness that follows grief. Not the kind where you’re just “alone” in a room — but the kind where you feel alone in your soul. The kind that creeps in when you’ve lost your people. Your anchor. Your father. Your friends. Your sense of safety. Yourself. It’s a strange kind of loneliness. The kind where even in a crowded space, you feel invisible. The kind where you don’t want to be around anyone — not because you hate them, but because they just don’t get it . They don’t see what you’ve endured. They don’t see how hard it is to even wake up some days, to smile through the hollow, to pretend you're “okay” when you’re barely holding on. And when they do speak, it’s not to understand — it’s to point out what you’re doing wrong. As if they know the weight of your silence. As if they’ve walked barefoot through the ashes of everything you’ve lost. All I really want is someone to say, "It’s okay. I see you. I’m not going anywhere. Even if you...