I am unsure why I put off writing something this important down for far too long. I've thought and pondered upon this cause; could it be, that I am ashamed of what I have to say? 

Or perhaps, it was the difficulty of accepting the truth of this revelation for me. 

I have always kept my work low-key and quiet, for fear it may reach the eyes of others. Most often, I do not want them to know what I have to say less it be filtered; this time, it shan't be. 

Many a night I lay awake in a ponderous silence, sleep unable to overcome me. Sleep long taken the others I love, refuses to make its comforts known to me. And as I turn the cornerstones of the threshold of my consciousness, I once more feel this overwhelming sense of emptiness draw me in. 

Nobody else seems to understand this. Neither do they seem to be acquainted with the abysmal sense of despair I constantly feel. No amount of happiness or contentedness can mask this deeply rooted about quintessential feeling of loss, sadness and anguish deep within myself. 

I often wonder if I am alone in this cause. The nightmare that haunts my waking hours, threatening to wrap me in its embrace when I am alone. 

In many ways, I love and loathe solitude for this very reason. The pain of being confronted with the silence of my own mind is almost deafening. 

I put pen to paper many a time and I pray hard that it goes away. It has been 11 years and the feeling still resides within me, having made permanence in the decadent abandonment of my care. I no longer feel so strongly as I once did; but I continue to feel the weight of sadness with such burden. 

Even wrapped up in the arms of the one I love, I still feel alone. 

And I crave a day where I will no longer feel the need to cry myself asleep.