<Alone>
Sometimes words must bleed in order to be seen
Note before we go further:
This piece talks about the kind of aloneness that brings you face-to-face with ending it all. If you’re not in a place to hear that today, that’s okay.
Come back when your breath is steadier. Or don’t come back at all. I trust you to choose what your body needs.
If you're in it—like really in it—please reach out to someone. Anyone.
You’re not weak for needing help. You’re human for staying.
And if no one else tells you this today: I’m glad you're still here.
Have you ever felt alone?
What am I saying—of course you have. You’re human.
But have you—truly—felt alone?
The kind of loneliness that drives a spike through your spine
and tries to sap the soul right out of your cord.
The kind that makes you hate everything you see,
everything you smell, taste, touch.
The kind that reaches for sunlight—
only to spit at it and shut the goddamn shades.
I’m talking raw hunger.
The kind of alone that drags you to the edge of your cognitive cliff,
only to whisper—
“Jump.”
That kind of alone.
It sucks.
It’s painful.
It doesn’t take sides.
It nudges you right to the edge of your fucking existence and then sneers,
“He’s too much of a coward to do it.”
That kind of alone.
And yet—
You’re still here.
Funny how that works, right?
Your mind can fuck you up so badly
that your body becomes its hostage.
It commands your body to do the one thing it was never built to do—
just to prove how worthless you really are.
Or…
Maybe the body knows something the mind refuses to see.
Maybe the body is witness to the mind’s pain.
The mind suffers. The body feels.
The mind lashes out. The body echoes.
The mind fractures.
The body—holds.
It’s no accident our minds were built inside our bodies.
We’ve been taught to trust the mind to lead,
but maybe—
maybe it’s the body that deserves the trust.
When you’re hurting,
when you’re vulnerable,
when you’re bleeding at the seams—
Trust the body.
Sit.
Listen.
Hold.
Because the mind will always think it knows better.
But I submit—
it does not.
So the next time you’re alone—
I mean truly alone—
trust the body.