Loneliness had defined her life. The feeling she had felt every moment of her every day. It was loneliness that gave her the darkest days. Days when she felt nothing but sadness. Gloominess. Loneliness was also the reason for the many times she wanted to run away from everything and get lost. And possibly never come back.
It had not done all bad, though. If she was not lonely, she would not have started writing at all. Lack of a friend who would listen to her when she had the blues made her make the papers and the pen her friend. They were good friends. They never left her. They were there whenever she wanted.
But they did not talk. They only listened. Sometimes, she wanted to hear them talk. She wanted to feel like she was conversing with them. But they never did.
So, she wanted to end this friendship many times. But she never did. After all, who would end the one last friendship they had?