A letter to Loneliness + A letter to Friendship Love

Dear Loneliness,

Welcome back, my familiar friend. It’s been a little while since your face emerged from the shadows. I can’t say I’ve missed you; you bring deep despair to my days. I fear our reunion will be bittersweet and hopefully short-lived. But I can’t know for sure. I can never predict how people in my life will act – how their words and actions may contradict one another; how they might claim they care for me, then disappear into the night and leave me to sink my loud, ugly sobs into the bathtub. (It took all my energy to lift myself out. At least the water was willing to hold me.)

It may sound contradictory, but I appreciate your company, Loneliness. Remember how we fell asleep with cheeks stained and wet, fists clenched in pain, and awoke with fresh tears drawing patterns across our skin? We felt the dull, throbbing ache of waking up alone, with no promise of a beautiful body to curl up against us anymore. We had a heart squeezed by hurt because we let someone in who let us down.

You felt that with me, didn’t you?

I know you won’t write back to me. You are a well-worn scarf that drapes around my neck, your fabric scratchy and uncomfortable. I feel myself clutching at you, itching to pull you off, but my pride tells me you are my only option. You will keep me warm, in your way. Better to be alone, where nobody can squeeze out my vulnerabilities and scrutinise them under the light, before tossing them back at me. Best to trust the only person with predictable patterns: myself.

I can’t think of anything more to say to you right now. I didn’t want to invite you in, but I had no choice … so please go gently with me, Loneliness. I am a tiny, fragile creature without wings.

Yours, for now,

Sarah

***

Dear Friendship Love,

Thank you for being the most precious, life-giving antidote to Loneliness. When a fresh wound opens and my thoughts spiral, you teach me that friendship will wrap me up with care and kindness and whisper words of affirmation.

‘We love you, Sarah. So, so much.’

‘You have everything to offer to others. But you need to look after yourself first.’

‘When you can’t look after yourself, we will be there.’

You are the childhood friend who arrives at night with a container of nutritious food. The one who ensures I eat, makes me tea, and holds me while I cry. The one who tenderly brushes my hair and weaves it into a braid like my mother did when I was young. The one who makes more dinners for me that week. Who listens patiently while I rehash the same story to try to make sense of it. Who invites more friends over to sit and talk, our faces firelit and our words warm.

You are the other childhood friend who calls me right when I need to hear her voice. Who sends me a message that says, ‘I’d do anything for you.’

You are the many friends who send me sweet check-in messages and listen while I utter confused, scattered thoughts. The friends who laugh and joke with me and squeeze me tightly. Who invite me on brunch dates even if I don’t eat and choose cute clothes for me so I feel pretty. Who ask about my bunnies and self-care routine, and plan girly sleepovers and queer parties so I don’t self-isolate.

Friendship Love, I am so grateful for you. You are a true gift from the heart. You are welcome here.

In return, I give you my own heart. And in this shared heartspace, I will become a bright, expansive creature with renewed capacity for flight.

Yours, always,

Sarah