I'm sick of this echo

Loneliness is a creeping disease. You don't see it coming, one day you're the belle at the ball, the next day, the whole house is empty, all the drunks have left and you are by yourself, your own house echoing the screams of your heart.

How do you even come to terms with it? Who would you even admit it to? Yourself? But that is the problem in the first place. Someone passing by, a kind soul could notice your pain, they could offer you some aid, but by now, you, the lonely soul have become so used to your loneliness, so utterly useless at being good company to others, that you will drive them away y your sheer inability to be pleasant in polite society. On the other hand, the person heping you could be a particularly kind person, and they could stick by you even though you act a mute in their company- but that, that is just pity on their part- and not even lonely souls like to be pitied.

So here you stand, unable to embrace because you have only heard your own ideas float your mind for so long, unable to understand because you have spoken only your own tongue for so long, yet fully aware that you are lonely- its a vicious circle that keeps your thoughts.
You stand at the cusp of panicking, imagine yourself screaming your secret from the rooftops, holding back each time, lest your own voice break the silence you have grown so comfortable in.

Whose to blame? You. Who can change it all? You. Who is too comfortable? You. Who is too afraid? You. Whose to blame? You. Who can..