I am loneliness, the emptiness of an unsuccessful social life, the tears that flow from the eyes of those who yearn for a companion. Paired with insecurity, lacking a true presence near me, I am cut by the bitter winds of isolation. Without the warm aura of a friend, seclusion reigns in my frozen heart. The hearth of hope is reduced to smoldering embers, while the walls of confidence break down under the brewing snowstorm. I change from a warm smile to a face contorted by crying, wailing, moaning for one true companion, a person who can break the walls and extricate me from desolation’s freezing grasp.

I am one-sided empathy, the helpless helper, attempting to connect with friends who have problems, be it social, physical, mental, or, dare I say, romantic. To understand them, to feel their pains, to experience their emotions is not merely a privilege, I feel, but an obligation, yet they seem oblivious to my silent pleas and subtle hints at my yearning for a true connection. I construct conduits to allow them to pump out their emotions and problems so I may deal with them, yet when I ask for them to return the favor, they are callous. And I try to hide my cries under false smiles and fake laughs, but my life continues to swirl around, crushed in a bleeding heap. Never have I the time to sort out these emotions, for I am still helping, helping even those with no care for me.

I want to be a guardian, a protector of people. I want to be the light in the lives of my peers, shining with a brightness that guides them in their paths. However, being a mere helper is not my only intention: to be accepted, to be wanted as a true friend is my desire.