I'm lonely in rooms full of people. That's the part they don't warn you about. You can have followers, friends, family, a full contact list—and still feel like you're shouting into the void. I text first. I always text first. I remember your birthday. I ask how your mom's doing. I send the meme that made me think of you. And then I wait. And wait. And watch my phone stay dark. I'm tired of being the one who cares more. I'm tired of watching people post "best friends forever" with someone else while I sit here wondering what's wrong with me. I'm tired of surface talk. The weather. The weekend. The "we should hang out sometime" that everyone says and no one means. I want deep. I want real. I want 2am conversations about fears and dreams and the stuff we're too embarrassed to admit in daylight. I want someone to ask a follow-up question. To remember something I said. To check on me without me having to break first. I want to stop performing for people who aren't even watching. I want to believe God sees me in the quiet. In the car alone. In the bed scrolling. In the moments where I wonder if anyone would notice if I just... disappeared. I want to believe He's not silent. That I'm just not listening right. That the reason I feel alone isn't because I am alone—it's because I've been looking for love in places that were never built to hold me. I want to believe I'm not too much. Or not enough. That somewhere between "too much" and "not enough" is a version of me that someone actually stays for. I want to believe healing is real. That the patterns break. That the people who left don't get to live in my head rent-free forever. I want to believe love doesn't always leave. If you're still reading? Same. Let's be lonely together. Maybe that's less lonely.