I sit here in my bedroom in the blank silence instilled by my empty apartment. No one else is at home. They all have something to do with their lives, yet mine has come to a screeching halt. My friends have their lives revolving around them, and I am nowhere in the circle. I know this for fact; I called them, they weren't home. They didn't call me. They used to. My family isn't at home either. They are outside while I am here locked away in the lonely walls of my chamber. The door is locked.
Silence envelops my head; I am losing sight of my surroundings. I become frightened. The objects in my room are starting to look very unfamiliar. My bed, my dresser, all of my things seem foreign; out of place. Sort of like me. I can no longer bear the absence of sound. I turn on some meditation music, hoping it will relieve the pounding quiet in my head.
"Dear Diary," I write. "I am all alone. I can feel anything but sorrow. No one in this world cares about me. Perhaps I would be better off if I just died. Yes. Death is that answer for me." I sign my name at the end.
The electronic drum beats have filled the empty space in my mind. It twists into a different effect with each song, taking me with it. I feel lost in some sort of dream world. My world; but I am still alone. I can't take this loneliness anymore! My moo d is now fixed upon one emotion. I am afraid of it. I am so afraid.
Tears come too my eyes like a speeding train. They swiftly run down my face in drops of immense sadness. I lay my head down on my pillow, weeping with utter fear of losing my mind and giving in to the loneliness. Small whims of poems and songs drag out of my mouth. I can't stand it anymore! I start to get up, My agenda is this: painless and quick. But before I can get up, I hear a tiny voice from under the bed.
My little black and white kitten jumps up on to my lap and starts to purr. Suddenly, I don't feel so alone. I start to cry again, this time not for fear, but for happiness.
"Dear Diary," I write. "Kittens rule."
I fall asleep. And I know that when I awaken someone will be there.
All writings contained within these pages are the work and property of Kristen A. Rae. These writings are not to be distributed, repurposed, edited or otherwise used without express permission.