Loneliness Made Me Do It — Raw Confide Story

I’ve never been the type to admit weakness.
People around me think I’m strong, busy, surrounded, always fine.

But the truth?
Loneliness is a quiet poison — it creeps in, sits with you, and whispers things you normally wouldn’t consider.

That night, it felt louder than my own thoughts.

I had just returned from another long day, dropped my bag, and stared at the ceiling.
No calls.
No messages.
No human warmth or voice asking, “How was your day?”

It felt like the world was full, and I was the only empty space inside it.

So when he texted — someone I usually ignore, someone I always kept at arm’s length — I didn’t push him away this time.
Not because I wanted him.
But because I wanted anything that felt like company.

We talked for hours.
About life.
Work.
Regrets.
Dreams we never pursued.
He listened in a way nobody had in a long time.
And I felt myself relaxing, letting pieces of me slip through cracks I swore I sealed years ago.

There was a moment…
A tiny moment when his voice dropped to a softer tone, when silence stretched between us, when breathing felt heavier.
Not sexual…
Just dangerously intimate.
Like I had removed a jacket I didn’t realize I was wearing.

I knew I shouldn’t let the moment go further.
I knew loneliness was guiding the steering wheel, not logic.

But loneliness makes even the wrong attention feel like oxygen.

So I let the conversation drift into places it had no business entering — places charged with tension, curiosity, unspoken desire.
Not physical…
Just emotional fire, the kind that burns slower but deeper.

When the call ended, I sat there staring at my reflection on the black screen.
What I felt wasn’t guilt.
It wasn’t excitement.
It was truth:

Sometimes we don’t crave bodies — we crave connection.
We crave someone who sees us when the world doesn’t.
We crave the echo of another heartbeat when ours feels too loud.

Loneliness made me do it.
Not lust.
Not desire.
Just the fear of feeling invisible.

But in that moment, I learned something:
Loneliness isn’t shameful.
Ignoring it is.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

✍️ "Weak in the Knees"

 He had me against the wall before I could say his name — fingers digging into my hips like he’d paid for the right to bruise me. He kissed me like he was angry, tongue sliding against mine until I gasped — that sound he loved, the one that made his grip tighten. By the time he slid his hand between my thighs, my knees were gone — soft, trembling, useless. I whispered don’t stop but I didn’t need to. He wasn’t going anywhere. He knelt right there, lips on my inner thigh, mouth making promises my body already believed. And when his tongue finally found me — hot, slow, devastating — my back hit the wall and I heard him laugh into my skin. “Weak in the knees for me, baby?” All I could do was moan — and give him everything he’d come for.
Read more

✍️ Somebody’s Shoulder Is About to Give Up

 Somebody’s shoulder is tired. Not from lifting weights — but from carrying everyone else’s silence. She smiles like she’s fine, but she’s tired of being the strong one. The listener. The fixer. The one who holds everyone together — even while she’s falling apart. She answers texts when she’s the one who needs comfort. She claps for others even when no one claps for her. She gives. She bends. But she’s starting to break. You’d never notice. Because she hides it like a pro. But if you look closely, her eyes say: “I need someone to carry me now.” Somebody’s shoulder is about to give up. And the saddest part? She’ll still ask you if you’re okay — while she's quietly drowning.
Read more

I get jealous over someone who isn’t even mine.

It’s embarrassing, honestly. Feeling jealous over someone who hasn’t promised me anything. Someone who owes me nothing. Someone who might not even like me back the way I like them. But here I am — getting irritated when I see their name pop up with someone else, getting quiet when they don’t text back on time, overthinking when they post something that doesn’t include me. I act unbothered. I pretend I’m cool. I respond with “lol” and emojis like my heart isn’t acting stupid. But inside? I’m burning. Not because they’re mine but because I wish they were. I know it’s foolish. I know I have no right. But feelings don’t wait for permission. They attach themselves quietly, softly, and then violently — especially when you try to ignore them. Jealousy without entitlement is the worst kind. Because you suffer silently, pretending you don’t care, while hoping one day they’ll choose you so you can finally stop lying to yourself.
Read more