Originally posted on my blog.

I was okay being alone, till I was the only one alone.

Literally,
I had enough people around me.
Someone to ask how I’d been lately,
because they’d been too busy to make time to see me.
Someone to ask me if I had attended class,
So they could borrow notes they’d missed,
while spending time with someone else.
Someone to ask for my opinion on presents,
because they needed ideas,
for a birthday gift
I wouldn’t get.

Literally,
I was not alone.
Figuratively,
I was more than it.

Best friend told
not to wait for the walk home from school
because she’ll be walking home with the boy
she tried to attain all month,
and eventually succeeded.

Other best friend cut conversations short,
because it was time for boyfriend to come home from college,
so she could spend the next endless hours talking to him.

Meet up plan cancelled with another,
because “just a friend” was turning 18,
and a pre-birthday celebration was due.

Just a series of
Empty desks,
Changed lab partners,
Forlorn walks home,
Lost conversations;
Shifting priorities.

Lonely nights,
charged with caffeine,
the diary
held so dear
no longer fulfilling
the need for a listening ear,
the pillow
no longer making up
for desired physical affection.

Not quite understanding what it meant
to have someone fall for you,
to sweep you off your feet
then catch you too.

Wondering if it all really was worth,
losing friends over.

Wondering if I’d ever know.

I was okay being alone, till I was the only one alone.