Max

It's me again. Of course. Who else would write in my journal?

I've been thinking a lot recently. About myself. Shocker, eh? But I've come up with a question I wish I could ask the world.

Have you ever felt so lost to the point that you don't even know what it wrong? That's how I'm feeling these days.

My best friend walked away from me. Well, not just my best friend. My boyfriend too. And I guess he didn't really walk away. It's a service, after all. But it feels like he left me. Left me in the dust.

I didn't realize how much losing him for a year in Japan while he taught English to little kids would effect me. I knew I was going to miss him; wouldn't you? But this was something different. It isn't just his kisses that I miss, although surely I do. And it's not even his hugs either. I haven't been able to figure it out for the half a year he's been gone. But today, I did.

I had assumed I was going to be lonely. I mean, who wouldn't be? But I couldn't fathom just how lonely I really could be. And as the days dragged on, the more of a recluse I became, until I realized that's what I was becoming. A hermit. I stopped that though, and made a point of hanging out with people whenever it was possible between college and work. But it was never enough. It was never the same.

I am lonely. Not man lonely, wanting a relationship or anything of the sort. Not even a friends with benefits kinda guy, or even someone to cuddle with during movies. I am friendship lonely. Sure, I have friends, people I hang out with. But true friends are hard to come by, and are few and far between. And after losing the best one I could possibly have, who else could compare?

I try to be more optimistic. Surely someone, a girl preferably, could reach me like he did. A friend who just gets me. Knows when that hug is needed, when a suggestion of advice is welcome, and when I just need to rant. But they don't get it.

No one gets it.

So here I am, still. Lost and lonely. And waiting. Always waiting.

Carli O'Hare

I put my pen down. This sounded pathetic. I sounded like some lovesick girl who didn't have a life, had no friends, and no prospects at a decent future outside of hermitdom. But if I couldn't be real to my journal, where else could I be?

Max walks into my room then, jumping up on my knees, trying to lick my face.

"Hey, boy," I say with a small smile, rubbing him behind the ears. He gives me a soft bark of encouragement. At least Max is always there for me. That dog is faithful, more faithful than almost any human I know. 

I close my journal and crawl into bed. Pulling the covers up over my body, I pat my hand on the bed, encouraging Max to hop up with me. He curls up at the foot of my bed and lays his head on my leg. I reach down at pet my black lab one more time before lying my head down to rest. Hopefully, he will keep the lonesome dreams away tonight, and would still be there for me in the morning. At least I've got Max, I think one last time before drifting off to sleep.