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Are the lonely really that alone?

There’s SO many of us out here.

Aimlessly wandering as one.

Together in thought.

Pretending we co-exist somewhere, with something, to make-up for the lack of a someone.

We’re full of ourselves.

Hyped with desperation for the fleeting feeling of hope as each day passes, mundanely unchanged.

None of us are really that empty.

We’re not that void of connection.

We’re not that lacking of love, even if we’re all craving some touch.

Who say’s you’re special for feeling the same way as the rest of the sullenly sunken sad baggy-eyed faces we pass on the streets?

Not me.

Assume we’re all one in the same.

In this deathly sinking ship, together.

Trying to weather the shit storm with no emergency plan in place.

It might take us under, and that’s okay.

Come up for air when you can breathe no longer and you’ll see the rest of us, wading, patiently.

Waiting for the waves to finish crashing before our next strokes towards shore.

Keep swimming between the breaks.

Just keep swimming.

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