Something in me is broken. I cannot name it, but I know it through others. I’d like to believe the world around me is broken, or that I just landed out of time, but I’ve thought that for too long for it to be true. What I know, or at least what I sense is that I will always be alone.

Alone. It is a a calm, sad certainty that rests as heavy as an anchor weighing down my heart. My long companion, my perennial foe.

The silence is certain. The withdrawal complete. There is no longer a reason to linger, not even to take. Now I wait for the inevitable call, “Hey, girlie…” and I’m back. Even for a few moments, a sense of connection. Though it will not be as before, I will go in search.

This familiar foreign place, breaking my heart fresh.

What draws me back to these cold halls like a beacon towards home. I’ve been here so often it feels home.