No longer alone

She was never alone. THEY were always with her, wherever she went, THEY followed. THEY lived with her, so she couldn’t even get away from THEM at night. THEY were very possessive of her, hardly let anyone else talk to her. Even when someone else did speak to her, she could barely make out scraps of speech. Why? Because THEY were always speaking louder. None of her other friends liked THEM but knew she would never leave THEM, and THEY would never leave her, so her friends just put up with THEM, put up with her. Well, whatever few friends she had left really. Most people left her alone because of THEM. THEY never allowed anyone to get close to her anymore.

THEY weren’t always like this, you know. There was a time when THEY were quite a nice bunch to have around. THEY were intelligent, trusting, and entertaining. THEY were happy, well, not all of them, but a vast majority of THEM were. Then things changed. It started, like many stories do, with her meeting a boy. He was a nice sort of a boy. Funny, pleasing, caring, all that a hero would be. She liked him, and so did THEY. He liked her, he liked THEM too. Everything was going well, until one day when a new one of THEM appeared. It started talking to the rest of THEM and changed everything. All of a sudden, THEY  started spending more time with the boy than with her. Initially, the boy didn’t mind, he enjoyed THEIR company. But as he started to know THEM better, he began to retreat. He started hiding from THEM, making up excuses, saying he was busy, shutting her out. THEY were hurt and upset. She was hurt and upset. THEY ran back to her, surrounded her, wept with her.

She spent the next few months alone with THEM. It changed her. THEY were always around now, talking to her constantly. THEY increased in number as well, forming a fortress around her. This lead to many people leaving her, and fewer friends talking to her. And the boy? THEY tried to hide all traces of him.

‘Was it better this way?’, she wondered. Just her and THEM. She wasn’t quite sure, she wasn’t even sure if she had any other choice. She knew one thing though, at least she was no longer alone. Ever.



“I have no stories.” she told him.

He sat besides her, almost reached for her hand but decided against it. “Why not?”, he asked instead.

“I don’t know. I have sadness and longing. But I have no stories to write. What’s the point of sadness if it won’t manifest as a story?”

He smiled, “Sadness doesn’t have a point to it. But why are you sad?”

‘Because of you’, she thought but said, “Just generally sad.”

“What are you longing for?”, he asked

‘You’ she thought, but said “Happiness” instead.

“We all long for happiness.” And this time he took her hand without looking at her. They sat together, staring into the distance.

She thought about how much he meant to her, he thought of how much he loved her. She wanted nothing more than to get over him, he wanted nothing more than for her to fall in love with him.

But no words crossed either lips, they sat in silence.