I see my loneliness as an old woman screaming. She is crying out of grief mixed with hatred for the whole world and for herself. She did not live her life well and was not happy. She sits on my shoulders, heavy. And my back hurts carrying her. She tells me what to do. She wants me not to leave the house. She wants me not to talk to anyone. She wants me to be afraid of everyone. In fact, she is afraid that I will repeat her mistakes. In fact, she wants to protect me from pain.
And I thank her. She fulfilled her task. She did it. And I survived. She protected me. She told me that the more I suffered, the sooner God would forgive my sins and give me a reward. And that the more I suffer, the more other people will love and respect me.
I thank her and slowly let her go. I take it off my shoulders and put it on the ground. And she gets smaller and smaller. She becomes a little girl. She wipes her tears. She looks hurt. I wave goodbye to her. And she walks away, a little girl, dancing and laughing, into the distance. She disappears into the light.