I make breakfast for my loneliness, unflinching as it sits down in it's chair, grunting at me. The pain throbs in my head and my body at the feel of it's presence, and suddenly I am not in my body.
I am thinking of times when I slept in twin beds with friends, sure that one of us would fall off in the night but waking up to our bodies entwined. I remember car rides with the windows down and the sound of radios blaring but our voices louder, singing along.
I yearn for times when friends and I would take pictures, freezing moments in time so that we'd never forget that moment, and how with technology, all I had to do was press a button for them to dissipate into nothing.
I am crying over the stove and I can hear my loneliness grinning and chuckling behind me, reminding me that the inside of this prison is where I will stay forever.