Daring

I am not lonely. I enjoy the comfort of my bed. My legs sprawl and my hands are pampered by my pillows. I find meaning in life from driving alone. The music is my friend, latching onto my inner emotions and propelling forward a voice far deserving of a grammy, but nevertheless enjoying its weakness. Imperfection. Imperfect. I prefer silence to screams of inability to carry on an argument. I prefer reading books of beauty to watching absurd movies. The fairytale is so much better in words. The love is so much more beautiful in words. Love is so much better written down. Love doesn't make a good actor. 

But I do get lonely. Especially when you make a mockery of my opinion. Or when you pretend to be present, and that you are, just without your ears. I do get lonely when you yell at him who I look after, when you make a disaster out of a vow that you took, when you forget that I get stressed. I do get lonely when you ask me to shed off pounds as you consume a bag of chips. I do get lonely. But I am not lonely. I am partial to other emotions. That. I suppose is the supreme difference between you and me.