“I close my eyes and I let my body shut itself down and I let my mind wander.  It wanders to a familiar place.  A place I don’t talk about or acknowledge exists.  A place where there is only me.  A place that I hate.

I am alone.  Alone here and alone in the world.  Alone in my heart and alone in my mind.  Alone everywhere, all the time, for as long as I can remember.  Alone with my family, alone with my friends, alone in a room full of people.  Alone when I wake, alone through each awful day, alone when I finally meet the blackness.  I am alone in my horror.  Alone in my horror.

I don’t want to be alone.  I have never wanted to be alone.  I fucking hate it.  I hate that I have no one to talk to.  I hate that I have no one to call.  I have that I have no one to hold my hand, hug me, tell me everything is going to be all right.  I hate that I have no one to share my hopes and my dreams with.  I hate that I no longer have any hopes or dreams.  I hate that I have no one to tell me to hold on, that I can find them again.  I hate that when I scream, and I scream bloody murder, that I am screaming into emptiness.  I hate that there is no one to hear my scream and that there is no one to help me learn how to stop the screaming.  I hate that what I have turned to in my loneliness lives in a pipe or a bottle.  I hate that what I have turned to in my loneliness is killing me, has already killed me, or will kill me soon.  I hate that I will die alone.  I will die alone in my horror.

More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to be close to someone. 

More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to feel as if I wasn’t alone.”

–          James Frey, A Million Little Pieces, pgs 79-80


About gabe126

I'm a 29 year old gay trans guy who lives in Philadelphia. Gabe is not my real name, well, it's my middle name, but for anonymity's sake, let's go with that. I hold bachelor's degrees in both music and special education, and I am currently 2 semesters away from graduating with my masters in special education and autism studies. I am disabled due to severe mental illness (bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, and OCD). I play the trombone and piano, although it's been a few years since I seriously touched a piano. I have 5 tattoos and another one planned, I just don't have the money right now. Derek Jeter, former Yankee's shortstop, is my husband.
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One Response to Alone

  1. sonya says:

    yeah… this book spoke to me… it spoke to me in my own voice, regardless of all the hubbub surrounding this fiction/non-fiction, it was like reading a page torn from my teen journal. it didn’t matter if it was a mans voice or a woman’s voice, queer or straight, artist or lawyer, jewish or muslim… none of these seeming differences or labels were relevant in the read. sometimes they very often are. but in this case what mattered was that i very clearly identified with the voice of ‘the addict’ that disembodied rage that manifested in a myriad of self-hating scenarios, that sense of ‘otherness’ that pushed me to ever greater extremes and finally finally… after years of therapy and meetings and journaling, i found a power in that loneliness. because its from that isolation, that deprivation, that blank canvas of the soul, that i find my most potent, most authentic voice; urging me to create. it reminds me of this Hafiz poem that i’ll share in parting:
    “My Eyes So Soft”
    by Hafiz, trans. Daniel Ladinsky

    Don’t surrender your loneliness so quickly.
    Let it cut more deep.
    Let it ferment and season you
    As few human or even divine ingredients can.

    Something missing in my heart tonight
    Has made my eyes so soft,
    My voice so tender,
    My need of God

    – See more at:

    PS Finally, i just want to add that the very last line can be read in many ways. However, for me, while the word God might trigger so many things outside myself, when i read that last line, what i hear, what i feel, what i know, is that my need, my True need is not in my compulsion, not in my addiction, and not in any god outside myself. My need for God is my need to connect, truly connect in the way that lovers make love, with my own divinity. That divinity isn’t something i found in church or temple, its simply my connection with my creative self, myself as an artist, writer, poet, dancer… its that creative impulse that has allowed me to exonerate my destructive past, to channel my still compulsive behavior and to give voice to that shadow self that still abides. Keep creating, keep writing & know that your loneliness is a place of strength in its stillness. As soon as you come to terms with it, it will dissolve and you will be surrounded by a million friendly voices all clamoring for you! Then ironically, you will wish longingly for those hours when you had so much time to dwell in the calm estuaries of contemplative alone-time! Be well.

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