I stand alone in this world, alone in this sea of anonymous faces, holding hands with each other. I can still remember the soft touch of her hand on my skin, her shoulder brushing against mine, our steps in unison as we talked for hours on end. Now I'm alone, left with nostalgia, and the comfortable darkness that has become a void in my black soul, the only place she never could reach. I fight myself now, as well as the world, and have nothing to distract myself with. She was the golden smile that lit up the dark, the hand to reach out to me when I fell too far in the void. And now life has stolen her from me, and I'm left to force my smiles when I realize someone is talking to me, to pretend everything is alright when actually, all I want is a shoulder to cry on, because I never had one. Yes, she was there to put a smile on my face, but she never understood. Both of them never understood my need to no longer be left alone to cry, to lean on a shoulder and feel the tears to finally fall on something more than my cheeks.