To the boys who will always feel alone

I am sorry you can't hug someone long enough without feeling uncomfortable because your loneliness is so carefully locked inside your blood, you feel as if opening up your arms will set it free. And once it is free, you won't be.  I wish you understood that your rib cage is not a an actual cage where your heart is. Your ribs home the heart that beats to keep the marrow in them alive. That very marrow that yearns to feel another marrow's pulsations against itself. I am sorry your heart beats beat by themselves and no one else.

I am sorry you confuse attention for love because when you needed it yourself, you were told that boys should be strong. Because strong boys do everything on their own. And by doing everything on your own is how you're now alone. Even though you keep telling yourself it's not loneliness, it's just you all grown. The joints of your elbows and your knees are keratinized not because they bore the scratches of the ground; they're thick because you were made to believe that layer upon layer of skin on your body is how you can save yourself from the world. Forgetting that saving comes from within. And soft hands, and soft skin, to weakness they are not akin.

I am sorry you have had to carry the burden of the voices of the ones around you, so much so that your own got lost deep down under. That you doubt every opinion into being a thought meant to be broken. Until the pieces cannot be distinguished from the rubble that comes from being dumb. Your adam's apple clutching itself tight as your words envelope your trachea and almost touch your vocal cords. A vibration lingers, and the sounds dissipate into your blood to flush your cheeks to hide underneath the mask you already wear so perfectly. Yet, makeup is for girls only? 

I am sorry you are alone. I am sorry your home isn't your own - and neither are you.

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