Lonely: What I Realized

 

Lonely people...I am one of them.

In my loneliness, I have managed to attract people who, I now realize, were deeply unhappy.

Did I know they were unhappy? No, I didn't. Then again, I didn't realize that I was lonely either.

I am lonely because I don't have close friends to talk to—only two online friends whom I met in a virtual metaverse. They've since moved on from that world, just as I have.

I have no one to share my story ideas with. No one to talk to about life's little things, whether silly or serious.

That kind of loneliness leaves me vulnerable. It creates space for unhappy people to enter my life.

At first, they would talk to me about everything. They made me feel seen, liked, and wanted. But over time, their unhappiness began to surface.

They expected me to do what they wanted while rarely considering what I wanted. They weaponized my emotions, using my empathy against me to get their way.

I had a best friend who did exactly that.

When I look back on our friendship, it started well enough. But as we grew older, something changed. It didn't help that her father didn't like me. Things only became more strained after she got married and her husband didn't like me either.

I had something she lacked—or perhaps something that came more naturally to me: creativity, deep empathy, and an open heart.

It's not that she couldn't be open. She simply wasn't wired the way I was. Eventually, she became emotionally abusive, and when I finally cut ties with her, she showed me who she truly was.

As for my former husband...

Make no mistake—I loved him.

But he was unhappy, too.

He didn't have a happy home life growing up. I tried to show him what a loving family could look like. My family isn't always easy to deal with, but they accepted him as one of their own.

Were there signs that he wasn't a happy man? Yes.

It wasn't so much that I ignored those signs. I think I believed we could work through them together. Sadly, in the end, his unhappiness emerged in impulsive, self-sabotaging, and emotionally inconsistent ways.

Now, here I am, realizing something that has taken me years to understand.

I was never truly unhappy.

I was lonely.

And all this lonely person wants is someone who listens the way I listen. Someone who feels as deeply as I do. Someone who isn't afraid of complexity. Someone willing to be my emotional anchor, just as I would gladly be theirs. Someone who doesn't drain my quiet strength or try to reshape me into a version of myself that makes them more comfortable.

Here I am, practically an open book.

The question is...

Is there anyone brave enough to read it, accept it, and resist the urge to rewrite it?