I thought I knew what lonely was until a movement I couldn't take part in came along.
I was used to being on my own, but when surrounded by the voices of people speaking out against the atrocities they've faced at the hands of others I was filled with a need to join them-
Until I realized I couldn't.
For the resulting commotion that would fill my life if I did would not equate the relief I may or may not feel by telling all.
The demons in my life wouldn't be prosecuted by my voice, despite the promises some naive like to make.
To stay silent is to stay protected, even if it is at the cost of one's own sanity.
For I reside in the middle. In the place where things aren't so bad that I need saving nor the place where things are so safe that I can speak without fear. My voice wouldn't cause a worldwide commotion, nor would it cause arms of those dear to me to envelop me in embraces of comfort and support.
It would cause mass pandemonium in my world while changing nothing in the world.
So lonely has been redefined to mean utter panic in the midst of temptation.