What does it mean to be alone?

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Is it the physical absence of others? Is it the concept of having no one else?

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Or is it the crippling sense of loneliness? The hollow emptiness that stabs you in all directions. The gaping hole that swallows your soul and happiness like an ever growing void of darkness. Your heart caving into itself bit by bit, for that word that describes something so seemingly simple yet so destructive internally has been eating away at your hope and joy all along.

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This is how I define the word "alone". It's how I define my life, my heart, and my soul. Left by everyone that I cared about, everyone I trusted, everyone I loved. That's because I let them in. They lived in that now empty space in my heart. I was once happy and blanketed in love and people, that void not even existing.

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But everyone has to leave at some point. Death, heartache, selfishness, they are all the simple but monumental excuses I am always given. One by one, they leave, emptying that hollowed out piece inside of me.

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They left me abandoned and alone.

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Who wants a broken, disappointing, painful mistake around constantly? My creators understood the burden, that's why they left first, followed by my friends, siblings, and eventually those closest to me. Because even Promises once had families. Born from celestials but thrown away like mortal trash. My "mother" being that of night and darkness, the being of the sixth Hell, my "father" of cruelty and savagery of the third. My twin is the only one that I really have left, but even she banished me for my true nature. I was robbed of my life, of my whole being, been shattered into broken pieces, some never to be found again. I was never to be whole again. My very essence drained from me, each one of those once treasured people taking their share.

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Shouldn't a mother strive to protect her child from harm and heartache? Shouldn't a father want his daughter more than the greed of a man that never truly loved her? Was it my fault they left? Did I do something to make them not love me anymore? Did I disappoint them so much they couldn't bare to call me theirs?

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Shouldn't a family accept one of their own no matter the flaws? Or am I just too messed up to be one of them? Is my blood tainted with that of a monster set on death and havoc? Am I fated to be cold hearted and bitter, alone and broken forever? Did I do something?

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Did I do something?

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That seems like the recurring question that plagues my mind every single time someone leaves. You'd think I have gotten used to it by now, but I am not. The only difference now is that I don't trust, I don't dream, I can't love. My happiness is sometimes forced because I still want to please others. I want others to have what I don't, hoping that maybe, by the slightest possibility, I can get just a taste of that joy and satisfaction that they have.

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But it doesn't work that way. I should know that by now. I can feel their sadness, their anger, their resentment, but their love and peace seem to evade my efforts no matter what. I am tired of chasing those who should care. I am tired of pleasing those who can't be sated. I am tired of seeing their soul crushing smiles and hearing their ear bleeding laughter. I am exhausted of being in the presence of the joyful and innocent. I dote and tailor to their needs and I still must go to them for the care and compassion that should have already been given to me. I shouldn't have to ask. I shouldn't have to beg. It's supposed to unconditional, automatic, instinctual, but no. Not for me.

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So I am done.

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I am done chasing.

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I am done pleasing.

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I am done submitting.

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I am just done.