The Prophecy of Loneliness

 

I was once very lonely at home.
I cried,

“Mother, let me have a life.
Let me do something meaningful
with this existence,
or I will perish
into nothingness.”

But she was lost
in some other world of creation,
too busy to understand
the urgency of my determination.

She left me alone
with harsh rules
and endless emptiness,
and slowly,
I grew sick with loneliness.

As I lost myself,
piece by piece,
I began to see hospital rooms
in my dreams.

Something inside me whispered
of a time yet to come—
a time when my body, too,
would begin to give up.

And I feared my fate
so deeply
that happiness abandoned me.
Sleep abandoned me.
Even the simplest moments
became heavy with dread.

And then the day arrived.

My sickness reached its peak.
My panic became unbearable.
I began to have fits
from the sheer ugliness
of a life I no longer knew how to bear.

And the prophecy came true.

I was hospitalized.

There,
when every second of panic
felt like a burden too heavy to carry,
I desperately searched
for one thought—
one small thing
that could comfort me.

And I found one:

Perhaps people will come to see me.
Perhaps someone will sit beside me.
Perhaps, in this hospital room,
I will finally have some company,
some warmth,
some human comfort.

But no one came.

And that silence
broke something inside me
that sickness alone could not.

I was utterly dejected.

So I left the city.

I walked away from the life
that had taught me loneliness
and began, slowly,
to build one of my own.

I learned to sit with myself.
I meditated.
I practiced healing.
I learned that sometimes
survival begins
with the smallest decision:

to keep going.

Yet even now,
when I look back,
I think of all the suffering
that might have been gentler
if only people had cared.

How much kinder
this world could be
if we noticed one another
before someone had to break.

If we stayed
when someone asked us to stay.

If we listened
before loneliness became illness.

If we offered a hand
before someone learned
to survive without one.

Perhaps that is what I learned
from being alone:

No one should have to beg
for a meaningful life.
No one should have to become sick
to be worthy of care.
And no one should have to heal
entirely by themselves.