I read once when a friend of mine was writing something, and he wrote... "I wonder what it's like to be hungry.  I mean, really hungry."  I saw that and I stopped and thought about it, and I didn't have any idea as to how that would really feel.

In the same manner, I was thinking... how does it feel to be lonely?  I mean, really lonely.  Everyone knows how it feels to be hungry, but really hungry...?  Everyone knows how it feels to be lonely, but really lonely...?

I read a book once...
 

If someone had asked him, 'Ben are you lonely?,' he would have looked at someone with real surprise.  The question had never even occurred to him.  He had no friends, but he had his books and his dreams; he had his Revell models; he had a gigantic set of Lincoln Logs and built all sorts of stuff with them.  His mother had exclaimed more than once that Ben's Lincoln Logs houses looked better than some real ones that came from blueprints.  He had a pretty good Erector Set, too.  He was hoping for the Super Set when his birthday came around in October.  With that one you could build a clock that really told time and a car with real gears in it.  Lonely? he might have asked in return, honestly foozled.  Huh?  What?

A child blind from birth doesn't even know he's blind until someone tells him.  Even then he has only the most academic idea of what blindness is; only the formerly sighted have a real grip on the thing.  Ben Hanscom had no sense of being lonely because he had never been anything but.  If the condition had been new, or more localized, he might have understood, buy loneliness both encompassed his life and overreached it.  It simply was, like his double-jointed thumb or the fuzzy little tag inside one of his front teeth, the little jag his tongue began running over when he was really nervous.

Beverly was a sweet dream; the candy was a sweet reality.

I am trying to explain that loneliness is something which I feel.  Yes I am lonely.  But I'm not unhappy.  I remember a time when [romantically, passionately] I was never lonely.  But that was a long time ago before I got a crush in early high school, and after that I was lonely for no one in particular, just lonely, lonely in the truest sense of the word.  Lonely because there were so many others who weren't.  Lonely because I want to be happy, and I want to be happy with someone.  I want to make someone happy, and I want to be able to do that.  Sometimes I just wish I had someone to hang onto and not be lonely with and smile and talk to and let them know that they made me happy.

Someone told me once "I needed to show you that you didn't love me as much as you thought you did, and you didn't need me as much as you thought you did."  And maybe that's accurate.  Maybe they succeeded.  But if you don't need an individual, maybe you need something that individual can give to you, a feeling you can get.  Maybe you need to feel companionship, duality, a uniqueness of feeling that comes when you stop being lonely.

Sometimes I just wish I had a person that I could see and talk to about my life and my [assumed] problems, so I didn't have to bleed myself over this computer and someone could see how I felt instead of imagining what is going on inside of me.

I want someone to help me stop being lonely.

I was a someone.