Not Alone, Still Lonely

I know I’m not alone. There are many people in my life who love me and I hold them dear to me. They always make it clear that they are here for me, but why do I not feel it? Why do I still feel so lonely at times. Laying in my bed staring at the ceiling. 11:59 p.m. on a school night. Darkness fills the empty silence in my room. Do they not feel the way I do at this very moment? Laying here with this empty feeling and no motivation to even move in the slightest. My mind can’t even race because it doesn’t want to. I just lay here. Empty. I muster up the ability to look at my phone. Everyone that says they are here, aren’t online. I send multiple “hey”s in an attempt to feel something from even a simple reply. Minutes pass. 12:17 a.m. I lay with my phone face down. On vibrate so it’s not too loud but not to quiet in case a miracle happens. 12:23 a.m. Buzz buzz. Hope. Flipping the phone over I see a message from one of my closest friends. “can’t talk right now, busy” it reads. Simple, yet defeating. I feel my entire body relax again. The tenseness I did not recognize until after my hopes were revealed to be for nothing. I want to say that I need help, but if everyone is too busy? Sleep for them is important, but why does no one care about sleep for me. I close my eyes and lay there for what feels like forever. 1:56 a.m. Sleep finally hits my tired body, only to be woken up at 6:00 a.m. Most left me on read or apologized because they were asleep. That’s fine. I wish I could, though. Something so simple, taken. I go to a school and work hard, only to find out I had 2 papers due and a packet of review work for some of my classes. I get a 0% on these assignments, but never an, “Are you okay?” I sit at lunch in silence. An apple comes flying backwards and hits my milk, knocking it all over me. He turns around and says a simple but empty apology claiming it was an accident. That’s it. The final push to me breaking down for the first time today. I begin crying and run off to clean up. 12:13 p.m. I come back to many harsh, expected words from the table next to mine. “Crying over spilled milk?” None of them know that I spent last night cutting up my leg while sobbing in the shower. None of them know that I couldn’t get sleep nor receive help. Defeated, yet unsurprisingly predictable. At the end of the day, I toss my backpack on the floor of my bedroom and feel tears coming down my cheeks. I lay back on my bed once more, feeling empty and meaningless. I drift off and dream of a world where I am happy and someone is always checking up on me to make sure I’m okay. Maybe one day I’ll have that. I continue to hope. Unnoticed. I am not alone in life, for I am just lonely.