Loneliness is like a drug.

It makes you crazy with the desire to not be alone. You start your daily hallucinations with hope. Every small smile, every glance from a passer-by feels like a sparkling dinner invitation and you accept with a nod of your head and feel that the bounce in your step becomes lighter.

You’re in a crowd but yet you feel at the edges of the universe, detached and distant from the laughter and warmth that is happening only inches from your face.
People is not the answer. Because she feels that everyone belongs in some kind of world that makes sense to them.

Hers consists of fragile butterflies and doves, flying to the sounds of broken French and violin music.

The collision of two worlds happen rarely. But when it does, it commences with friction and conflict. Then slowly, their outsides peel away to reveal a core that has never been exposed before or have felt the caresses of the wind. On that full moon, She’ll let someone in.

But until then.

She's going back to the stratosphere.