De:Press/ion

Loneliness aches.

It develops.

It burrows and embeds itself in places it doesn’t normally dwell or belong.

It echoes.

Like shouting. Or whispering.

Or silence.

Loneliness destructs.

It restricts.

It wraps it’s fingers around your throat and squeezes and squeezes and squeezes.

And then it lets go.

And when it does, you long for it to come back and wrap it’s fingers around your throat once more, just to feel it.

Just to know it.

Just to feel.

Loneliness envelopes.

It harbors us. It exposes us.

It changes us.

It becomes us. And we become it.

And then it seperates and reconvenes again.

Over and over and over and over

Until it doesn’t anymore.