Someone dear to me asked me a few nights away, 'Am i lonely?' Well. I am. And it gets worst when i lay down on my bed every night cause it feels empty. Empty from inside, as though i've never felt loved. But i know i should be thankful. Thankful for being apart of a loving family, thankful for having friends that really cares and thankful for being here at this moment. But why is it that there's this hollow feeling stabbing right through my heart, scarring pass my conscious, and whispering eagerly to be love? To be love by someone i can call my own. To be given that special attention again. And to be able to know that nothing in the world matters when that special someone steps into the room. So i guess the answer is right, i am lonely.
And there are times when it gets so bad, when the feeling gets so overwhelming that i drown myself with work to get away from it all. And it works. Once. Twice. But how long am i going to lie to myself? How long can i stay pretending that everything is alright, and its all part of a bigger plan? Cause frankly, its not working for me. I still lay down on my bed every night, with that same empty feeling, echoing me to sleep. Without fail. Every night.