through the wormhole.

i am tired. exhausted, even.
but i lie here and think of nothing other than myself.
myself, and my incessant loneliness.

what a word, loneliness.
it needs more synonyms.
i despise its simplicity. i despise its logicality.
yet i still use it, since it is the only thing i feel now.

it's not a void.
it's no emptiness or sadness or madness.
it is the immense feeling of being alone to the core.
when you realize that those you love don't love you the same.
when you understand that you cannot die any way but alone.
when you see the vastness of the universe, and little tiny you.
that is loneliness at its worst.

and when i think of what i felt for him and what he feels for me,
when i feel what i think of you and how i've succumbed to it,
when i wonder who i am and who i will be, would be, could be with you...
...or him, or that one, or even this one...
i know it all means nothing to the universe.
so why does it mean so much to me?