The Lonelies chapter 3 Being lonely wasn't a good feeling. In fact, it felt like nothing at all. You see, when you're lonely you're missing something. Most of the time that something is a person. When you don't have this something it leaves you empty. It's like you haven't eaten anything for months but you're not even hungry. I have this feeling all the time and no matter how many times I'd been left I still have this small sliver of hope that haunts me. It was like falling into a pitch black hole and being okay with it. Not because everything would finally be over, because that small sliver of hope made me feel like at the end I'll find that something that would make the pitch black hole full of color. Occasionally I'd find myself laughing and smiling and I'd get this foolish thought. "Maybe I'm not lonely anymore." but then after the laughter ended and there were no more smiles it'd come creeping back and lay there waiting. Waiting for me to self destruct and leave myself emptier than I was before. I couldn't though, I was always searching for that something that would creep inside me and fill every hole with out me knowing. Then one day I'd laugh and I'd smile and there wouldn't be that lonely after feeling and I'd feel whole. whole /hōl/ adjective 1.in an unbroken or undamaged state; in one piece. noun 1.a thing that is complete in itself. I was not whole. I was not complete. I was shattered in many pieces. I had cracks. I was broken and damaged and in many more than one piece. Being whole was a craving; a desire. We're all searching, I think. Searching for that someone or something that takes all our broken and damaged pieces and slowly and carefully helps you put them back together without caring if it's perfect. To be whole. How wonderful would it be to feel whole.
The Lonelies chapter 2 "Your room smells like freshly brewed coffee." Seth wrote, his messy handwriting filling the small page. "I know, isn't it wonderful." Freshly brewed coffee was a heavenly scent. It was soothing and wonderful. It reminded me of sleepless summer nights. Staying up with warm coffee in my hands as the sun rose adding little warmth to the chilly Washington mornings. Seth sat on my bed, messing up the sheets that were once perfectly laid across my bed. 'So messy' I thought while I searched through my rack of movies. I placed Sleeping Beauty in the vcr and flattened the sheets next to Seth and laid down, not watching but listening to the sounds of the movie. I don't think Seth ever really watched the movie but instead made one of his own movies in his head. Seth was a thinker. A quiet one who never seemed to share his thoughts, but he was a thinker. Every once in a while he'd wake me from my regular nap to make me read some idea or theory that had popped into his head and I'd say a few words of what I thought and he'd go back to thinking and I go back to sleeping. Another routine, another thing in our life that Seth would say was "normal". Normal wasn't a word I liked. Though, the way Seth had put it "normal" was comforting. Our lives were hectic and loud. Unlike our voices but very much like our thoughts. Seth laid down next to me and I could tell he'd thought too much. He did that a lot. It tired him out and no matter how many times I tell him he shouldn't overthink he can't help himself. Another con added to always listening to others and never saying anything. You keep all of what you want to say and think to yourself letting it consume your brain tiring you out mentally and physically. Life was a game. The only way to win was to not play. We're cheated out of that option, though. So we're stuck in a game with no rules and no directions expecting us to figure out all the kinks and quirks; we always end up losing not matter what we find or who we meet or how far we get into the game. Once you enter, the only way to leave is to lose.
The Lonelies chapter 1 I wasn't one to approach someone to start a conversation. Nor was I someone who was able to keep a conversation going. This was a well-known fact. I was probably to most boring person in western Washington and because of this I was also probably the lonliest person in western Washington. There were a few others like me. We stuck together. Our group had a name given to us by our fellow classmates. "The Lonelies". If everyone in our small town wasn't a hardcore christian who strongly disliked bullying then we'd probably have a much more rude name. Personally, I like the name "The Lonelies". In this group there were 8 people, me included. There was Roger. Roger was a junior who wore black and white and nothing else. "I don't believe in color." he once told me. Roger was cool, I guess. Next there was Louise. She had really long bright red hair, dyed of course. The only thing I knew about Louise is that she wanted to go to a cosmetology school after she graduated. Next was Seth, he was my favorite out of the group. He didn't talk.. at all. I think that's why I got along with him the most. Whenever we hung out there was always silence. We didn't have to talk to be comfortable with each other and that's a gift not many people have. Seth's also really attractive. He might be gay, though. I don't know. It doesn't really matter. Then there's Vincent. Vincent is a really tall lanky guy who has bright blue eyes and bright blue hair. Unlike his eyes, his hair was neon bright, not clear sky bright. Whenever Vincent talks, it's normally in a quote. He likes to make people think about what he's saying. Mara was a short girl with big brown eyes. She was a freshman who idolized Louise. The twins were total opposites of each other. Not physically but mentally. Ethan was kind and considerate of peoples' feeling and the objects around him. He was aware of everything and always had a small almost ghost like smile on his face. Ayden, however, was loud and obnoxious. He never stopped talking and no one ever asked him to. He had a really nice smooth voice. It was just really loud and everytime he was around he was talking, not really caring if you were listening or not. Then there's me. My name's Summer. When I first met Seth he wrote me a note that said "You're ironic." I think when Seth realized I didn't get what he meant he knew he had to explain so he took the note back and wrote "Your name is Summer but your eyes remind me of winter." I guess because of my name I'm supposed to be enjoyable and fun to be around because that's what the season is like. I didn't live up to my name but I don't think that's supposed to matter. I was distant and normally said things only when absolutely needed. One time Ayden said I reminded him of a rainy day and that when I talked it was like he was listening to a slow song with the distant smell of fresh rain in the background. I didn't know if it was a compliment but it made me feel somewhat nice so I took it as one. I wouldn't say the people in The Lonelies were my friends but they were the closest I had to it. We hung out everyday in Vincent's tree-house and watched the same tv channel. It was the same routine everyday. We'd walk there in silence after school and once we got there Roger would turn the tv on and sit on the couch. Ethan sat to the left of him and I sat on the right. Seth would sit on a stool next to me. Ayden would sit in the bean- bag chair and talk over the tv to anyone who was listening which usually meant himself. Louise sat at a table with Mara right next to her trying to get a full conversation out of her. "We do the same thing everyday." Seth quickly pulled a piece of paper and pen from his back pack jotting down something. "Yeah, but it's nice being able to know somethings normal in our lives." Seth could do this thing where he pulled you in and made you wonder. He was like a really good book that you got so into you forgot about reality as you read cover to cover and when you were done you kind of just sat there thinking and thinking about all the different meanings within all the sentences. Seth made a person so lazy and unintelligent stop to ponder at the words he'd written. "You should be a writer, you know that?" He smiled and his eyes were warm. He was born to be a writer. Honest to God. The child had talent. "I know." he wrote.
The Lonelies prologue I am lonely. I'm lonely because I don't like talking to people and the only person I'm friends with is a boy who only communicates through short sentences he'd written on his notepad. I'm also ironic. I'm ironic because my name is Summer but my eyes are like winter and when I talk it sounds like rain.I'm weird. I'm weird because I make an effort not to talk to people even if they make an effort to talk to me. I am lonely. I'm lonely because I've been left too many times to count. Yet, no matter how many times everyone leaves me with no one I have this small sliver of hope that haunts me to no end. It was like I was falling into a pitch black hole and I was okay with it. . Not because everything would finally be over, because that small sliver of hope made me feel like at the end I'll find that something that would make the pitch black hole full of color.