In my life, I would define that loneliness has been present from my birth to my current state.
I did not have a childhood of misfortunes, and if I did, I barely remember it. However, what I do remember is always being alone, which is ever-present in my memories.
I was and am loved, a love that hurts and takes its toll, but I am. Family, I don't have much. I can't say it's nonexistent, but the idea of counting on someone who shares my blood scares me.
Friendships, I never kept anything for long, because I was always logical; I understood that I couldn't make anything last. It reminds me of my childhood, a memory that brings me little comfort but reminds me of my being.
When I was little, I had several cats, several litters were born, and I cared for them with the love I nurtured for vulnerable beings. One day, the cat broke something I don't remember, and my father became enraged. Men love weapons and violence more than their children, and that night my cat was brutally thrown against the wall. I couldn't do anything but watch; I was afraid, I was weak.
After that, many cats were lost due to my father's violence or illnesses that I couldn't control.
With this, I understood that I have no control over anything, from childhood to my youth. So, I learned to detach, to let go instead of dealing with it.
I was and am a good listener. I listened to several people, from those I hated to those I loved deeply, and they all have something in common. After they feel comfortable, their listener becomes their psychologist instead of a friend or lover, and their problems become trivial.
I am alone. I have no one who understands me and my mind. I was born into this world without a choice to leave. I don't like living with these thoughts, but I can't stand the idea of dying without understanding them.
The child who once lived in me wished to be understood and loved, wished to express himself and be supported. It's the young man who lives in me who wants the same thing, but at some point, he got lost and feels nothing.
In the end, this text is a certainty of my existence and my traumas, which I hide under layers of barriers to prevent delirium. Once, when all the barriers were gone, I almost couldn't save myself. I feel that if they fall again, I might drown, and no one will come to save me, because I am the worst being who ever lived on this earth, not for crimes, but for lying about who I am.