Being alone is a feeling, an emotion, a being that I have felt all too often in my life. My teenage years is when the reality of the darkness that crept with it hit me. A darkness that felt like it was eating away at my happiness and my soul. That I was no longer a person, I was alone. It is actually quite amazing yet of great sadness at the same time that it was possible to be in a house filled with people that say that they love you and still feel the overwhelming coldness of being alone. It is also possible that this is due to those same people being the people that say they love you because they feel like they have to, or when something is wrong and it is the right thing to do. Or for the other matter, those who do not say it at all, but you feel like they love, well that is the right thing for you to do right? Now as an adult, I’m not sure that feeling and holding on to a fake love that is so deeply needed to chase away the haunting of being alone was the right thing to do at all. Unfortunately, it is inevitable this feeling for me, no matter how much I try to trick my mind into replacing that feeling with the feeling of being genuinly loved, cared for and wanted, reality always sets in and I feel a new, darker, more destructive alone. One that tares me apart most defining at night but can even wash over me during the day. Now as a adult, I thought I had done it right, found what I needed to escape the torture. However, it is only amplified. With a husband that is sleeping soundly next to without a worry in the world; only realization of just how miniscule your life truly is whirlwinds through your memories. I laid awake tonight listening to the humming of the fan, sounding louder then ever and the snores of my husband as tears silently ran down my face, trying to calm my breathing. For waking my husband would not resolve anything as he is seemingly unaware of all the pain that fills my mind. I speak to him without any words being heard, I share with him without being acknowleged. After 5 years of marriage, it is apparent what I am of need to him for. He only desires me to listen to his hopes, dreams likely not involving me at all and frustrations which I will need to resolve as he is not stable enough to do so on his own. And most importantly, for his sexual desires, never to make love though as there is no love felt between us any longer. Although, he will never admit it, I think deep down he knows what he has done to me and that the feeling is lost for both of us because of it. I thought one day I would be married, I would never, ever have to feel this retched feeling anymore. How wrong I was. I am now married, with children of my own and this time I feel more alone then ever without an answer to the sickness inside of me. Some may say that I have depression or even anxiety and I wouldn’t deny their reasoning behind it. But this sickness is smarter then some label that allows me to hide behind and excuse it. This feeling causes me to eternalize everything, to blame myself for every awful moment I have brought upon myself. It truly has control of me in a way that not a single person has any idea that I am no longer a being.