It’s strange, really by Walking Shadow Poetry

I’m scared of being alone,
Not the kind where you sit quietly for a while,
But the kind that feels like a heavy shadow,
Creeping in when no one’s around.

It’s strange, really.
How silence can feel louder than a crowd,
How an empty room can weigh more than a thousand voices.

I don’t like it,
The quiet.
The stillness.
It feels too much, like something is missing.

So, I fill the space.
I invite friends over,
Not because I always want company,
But because the thought of being alone feels heavier.
And when no one is free,
I pick up my phone,
Dialing numbers like it’s the only thing keeping me sane.

Long calls,
That’s my thing.
I stay on the line for hours,
Listening to stories I’ve heard before,
Just to hear a voice on the other end.

Because when the call ends,
The silence comes back.
And silence?
It’s loud in ways no one talks about.

I can’t remember the last time,
I spent a whole day without someone around,
Or without my phone pressed to my ear,
Just to feel… I belong.

It’s become a habit,
One that feels too familiar.
When the day starts, I reach out.
When the night falls, I hold on tighter.
Because being alone feels like a weight I can’t carry.

And people think it’s simple,
“Just enjoy your own company,” they say.
But they don’t understand.
The quiet doesn’t feel peaceful to me,
It feels empty.

When no one’s there,
My mind gets louder.
Thoughts I try to bury rise up,
And I’m left facing a version of myself I don’t want to meet.

So, I avoid it.
I drown the quiet with laughter,
Fill the space with conversations,
Even when my heart is too tired to speak.

I wasn’t always like this,
But somewhere along the way,
Silence became a stranger I’m too afraid to sit with.

Maybe I’m scared of what I’ll find,
If I sit alone too long.
Maybe I’m scared that without the noise,
I’ll hear the things I’ve been trying to forget.

So, I keep people close,
Not because I’m weak,
But because being alone feels harder.

And every time the phone rings,
Or someone knocks on my door,
A part of me breathes easier.

Because for one more moment,
I don’t have to face the silence.
For one more moment
I don’t have to be alone.

The Echoes of a Broken Home by Walking Shadow Poetry