Bleeding Pretty Pictures

"They" say you should be honest. Write about what scares you. Cut yourself open with your own words and bleed pretty pictures on the page. Sacrifice yourself for your art.

I'm not ready to hop onto the pyre just yet, but I will share what burns me up.

How many others are eaten alive with loneliness? Is it just me? It's more than a moment of solitude or that quiet time in the morning where many find peace. It's a black ocean stretching beyond every horizon, with only yourself around. It's a sea below you and an endless sky above, and you're the only one like you you've ever seen, despite the swirling and tempestuous waves ceaselessly crashing upon you.

I speak the words, show up for the parties, extend the handshake and a smile. But I can never touch that soft center that binds our souls. We don't share our fears or set our heartbreak centerpiece out on the table like a turkey at a holiday meal. You have never washed your hands in the warm tears of my insecurities. I don't kiss the places you believe to be unbeautiful as you whisper your mistakes in the confessional of my arms.

Are we all so isolated in this modern media age? Or is it just me?

Even as you read these words, how many of you hear them?