A/N It’s small, it’s short, you don’t like it, you suck, go away…

Solitude

I’ve never realized until now, this darkness that surrounds me…I’ve figured out what it is, though I will not say for fear that it will hurt those around me. For now I will just remain curled inside myself, hiding behind that false smile, that smile that you all seem so eager to take as a sign that I’m well and there is nothing to fear. I will continue to placate your relentless curiosity with words of encouragement, that there is nothing wrong, that I’m only tired and not feeling well. In truth I’m not feeling well, but it’s not from the simple, lackadaisical illnesses that seem to run amuck within the human body, but another kind of illness, an illness that only I know the cure for, the cure that even though I know it exists is refused me time and time again.

Is it because I’m not worthy to be set free?

I content myself anymore to being friendly and watching from a distance, keeping the knowledge of my antidote from the world, from you who has so recently become such a caring friend, but can’t help but to smile and think myself a wanton fool at recalling the ingredients to such a cure. With these thoughts those smiles you see hide behind them the tortured frown, the expression that leaves my fears and my sadness open to read, though it is locked away so tightly. And when I turn around, my back to you for the briefest of moments, I let hot streams wash the powder of lies from my face and think myself arrogant.

But have you an idea of what I need?

This antidote, to ease the pain within my chest, is a simple concoction, but requires first that you find it within yourself. You never do. And I’m left this way, my secrets, my pain, and still I tell you I am tired. What a fool I am. What a fool to think that my serum will ever be rendered to me. Each time you come near then pull away. It is only more obvious that I will be ill for time more to come.

Yet you know not what it is?

I watch day after day as you bestow to those that not deserve it the very thing that I yearn for, that which is required for my sedative to be complete, and simply smile and encourage it. Who am I to tell you otherwise? It would mean my death completely to reveal to you that ingredient that I seek. I would be selfish to say and therefore my death would be required. Though it kills me just as much to watch as you give and give and those that receive eat hungrily and let it continue without intending to repay you that which you have given in such generous amounts. I watch as it slowly eats at you, helpless to defend you, weak in my own right as you’re weakened ever further.

Yet still…do you not see it?

I await anxiously for the day in which you will discover on your own that last ingredient, that last touch to add to my remedy and replenish me, make me whole, heal me from all that ails me and further. And yet…I fear you will never see it. Though I make it obvious…your eyes are not on me…and nor is it in your heart to heal me…

Yet still I await the day…

And until that day I will content myself to be locked away, in pain, there is no love for me...