He is well acquainted with Loneliness. She is tiny, miniscule, but always there, a presence impossible to neglect, and always adding a weight to his physical being.

Sometimes she rides among lint and heartbeats in his breastpocket. She pounds away at his heart, never uttering any intelligible words, just grunts and screams that keep him awake.

Screams manage to carry though, into his dreams. Her scream burrows into his dreams, and images become misty vapors until he is a lone figure in a dark room.

And he awakes, in a sweat, Loneliness feeling even heavier than ever on his chest.

Most of the time she rides on his shoulder, balancing carefully and purposefully with every step he takes, every running leap and bound. She will regularly whisper into his ears, words of harsh criticism, remarks that leave him hesitant because he can't help but listen. She takes his words away and leaves him only with his own self-questioning, discontented thoughts of things that could have been.

He wishes he could shake her off, be rid of Loneliness once and for all.

And perhaps one day, Loneliness will lose her grip, but the days until then will continue with her whispers, her hammering, and her constant weight on his shoulders.