Scarlet letters drifting down barren paths,
we are the Lonely.
We feast on the delicacies of sitting alone in a crowded room,
pairing socks when there's nothing else better to do,
and being our only friend when we need someone to talk to.
We'd like to believe that someone would stop,
acknowledge us,
and wish us good morning
before catching the 7:30 train,
but we live the lives Lonelies live.
We're never noticed.
Most of us,
the Lonely,
would like to believe someone
wants to be with us,
in either of the definitions of 'mate'.
Instead,
our sickening fantasies torture us all when companionship never arrives,
and our souls wither
to dust mites floating around a charred heart.
But fear not Lonelies,
for I have our love song.
We'll sing it in fear,
and,
maybe,
one by one,
each spring flower will bloom after perpetual hibernation.
So Lonelies,
instead of waiting for a limited edition martyr to sacrifice their social life for yours,
why not find them?
Steps take time but start crawling first.
I took a path to an uncertain future,
and to quote Bob Frost,
"That has made all the difference."
There is a cure for us,
and though you will be plagued,
search for someone to believe in,
and at the end of life you will be loved.
