Loneliness

My therapist asked me to sit with that cold, lonely girl in the corner of the room. What would I say to her? What do I want to do?

I felt apprehensive about this question, about this feeling like homework. Because all I really wanted to do was cry. Not write about this cold and lonely girl. 

And yet, here I am. I saw her in that light. This portrait. But, much younger. And it’s hard to sit with her. It’s heavy, it’s quiet. It feels like rejection and abandonment and I hate it. 

I just want to cry with her. Hug her and hold her hand and walk her home.

What does she want to say?

I’m scared, I wish they did what they said they would. I wish they would spend time with me. I wish they didn’t leave. What did I do wrong to cause them to leave? I must not have done enough. I’m scared and I’m tired.

And my therapist’s words ring, as I’ve forgotten them already and it hasn’t even been an hour: You have always been enough. Even before you could try. 

Logically, I know that. And we’ve been exploring these thoughts, emotions, ideas for a while now. It keep resurfacing. 

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This urge to achieve and be the best in whatever setting I’m in — it’s unsettling and its roots are unhealthy. It’s exhausting, because what is it all for?