Alone

There was a painful kind of solace in it, the quiet. And it was more than the quiet. It was the dull aching sense of loneliness. The empty achy tiredness that made you want to give up, give in. You could feel it in your muscles and your bones, sometimes a distinct stabbing needle pain, sometimes a general pressing, heavy mild pain. Done up, done in.
You were alone with your thoughts, boring holes in your brain, drilling you like tiny hammers. Slow, angry pain. Reminiscent of things you had once felt.
Suddenly it was all very real, all very much the same. It was like the shattering of a childhood fantasy, a sudden adult realization. Hitting you out of nowhere and leaving you breathless for what seems like hours. Your brain is suddenly nowhere, very blank. You are lying on your back, looking listlessly at the sky. Tiny black dots dance in front of your eyelids as you try to orient yourself. But you still can't bring yourself to care, like the drowsiness that pulls the world away from you as you fall  into slumber. Blocking out any thought or emotion.
Suddenly the role is reversed. This person is capable of some very intense damage. It is not just the deceit for that seems much too strong a word. It is more the pang of vulnerability striking a chord of things once passed.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of your body you hear the echo of doors closing. The quiet crash and subtle click much like background noise, less benign than crickets calling out into the night. It has a tone of emotional finality.
The world seems so quiet. So very alone, so very distant. No hands to reach, no ears to hear. You are a party of one. No one is calling you home.
Shut up, shut down.