Sometimes this feeling comes on unexpectedly.
In a crowd.
In correspondence.
At a moment when everything seems to be fine.
And suddenly... loneliness.
The kind that cannot be cured by phone calls.
The kind that does not go away with fleeting encounters and emojis in messages.
The kind that makes you want to scream.
Not out loud. But inside.

You're not alone — there are people, acquaintances, noise, social media, someone nearby...
But inside — it's deafening. Empty. Scary.
Not because there's no one physically nearby.
But because no one hears you.
No one feels you.
No one sees you for who you are.

You want to say that you're tired of being strong.
That you just want to sit on the floor, cry, and not be asked, “What's wrong?”
You just want to be hugged. Without words. Without decisions. Without advice. Just... be there.
I want to scream from loneliness —
from the fact that I don't seem to fit anyone's expectations.
That if I'm gentle, I'm too sensitive.
If I'm strong, I'm too cold.
If I'm open, I'm too trusting.
If I'm silent, I'm not interesting.
And in this world, where everyone wants something, I want to feel less and less.
Because it hurts. Because it's scary. Because emptiness is louder than words.
But you know what I realize in moments like these?
Loneliness is not the enemy.
It doesn't come to destroy, but to show me where I am real.
Where I am alive. Where I am in need. Where I am vulnerable.
And if I want to scream, it means I'm still waiting.
Waiting for warmth. For my person. For my silence. For my depth.
And you know what? It means I'm not broken.
I still feel.
And that is hope.