Kiana

The perils of existing for more than 12 hours without sleep: A firm belief that I am still a fetus inside my mother’s womb; crying horrendously in front of my friends and strangers; not registering any word spoken in my direction.

I have become good at being lonely, even in front of the people I love and admire most. I keep on thinking about how everything in my life is fleeting—in a single snap they could be gone. But I’m not afraid. I’m just reeling, because it means I have to strive to make every second, minute, hour, day that I get to spend with people worthwhile. Kanye sings, “’Cause when you try hard that’s when you die hard.” That resonates.

I went home spent and tired last night. I dozed off the moment I hit the sack, although I was able to utter the words, “You’ve done well and enough today. Rest, my darling.” I’ve concluded that loneliness fits in my “life timeline;” I will befriend it. Why not, when loneliness makes me kinder, softer, more empathetic? ♦