Being lonely is so hard. So, so hard. I know, because I used to live in it like amniotic fluid. It permeated my life, it circumscribed my every interaction, it smothered my vision of my future—I was the Titanic and loneliness was the north Atlantic and the iceberg was...my fat ass and my loud mouth, I assumed. I was just going to sink forever and then some day James Cameron would come poke around my moldering corpse in his dandy millionaire submarine and be like, "Well, the chandeliers were pretty nice, I guess." He probably wouldn't even bother to shoo away scavenging eels. And that would be it. Blergh.