Objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are

There’s this kind of loneliness that appears in your rearview mirror as you unexpectedly drive by a place that you used to belong to with someone. You're flooded with the mind numbing reality that that person isn’t there anymore and hasn’t been for almost 25 years.


There’s this kind of loneliness that hovers in the air of the room you are aimlessly standing in the middle of when all of your friends have things to do and people to be with and you aren’t one of them.


There’s this kind of loneliness that inserts itself into every version of “One day you’ll find someone that loves you for exactly who you are” and the space between each word gets bigger and bigger as you get older and older.


There’s this kind of loneliness that stares back at you from your phone after you have swiped, swiped, swiped again without getting any matches.



There’s this kind of loneliness that infuses itself in all of the charming, charismatic and frankly quite delightful parts of yourself that makes everything taste a little sour.


There’s this kind of loneliness that pulls at your skin after years of not being touched. Your skin hurts and thirsts for something that it vaguely remembers.


There’s this kind of loneliness that whispers in your ear, every time something fun or interesting happens, “You don’t have anybody to share this with later”


There’s this kind of loneliness that sticks to your sheets long after someone rolled over, got dressed and left your bed and apartment without ever looking you in the eyes.


There’s this kind of loneliness that ties itself up in a lovely bow around new love because you know better than to think that anything will last forever.




There’s this kind of loneliness that sits between you and your partner that makes all of your emotions utterly impossible to talk about.




There’s this kind of loneliness that inspires all of the sad songs that soothes and shatters you at the same time.


There’s this kind of loneliness that makes you turn down the light, put on Sade’s greatest hits, lie on the floor and write about all the different kinds of loneliness.