My loneliness woke me up yesterday. It must have made its way into my dreams because I woke up already feeling that painful sensation of aloneness, that almost desperation not to be by myself anymore. It’s a kind of fear and a kind of discomfort and a kind of sadness all mixed together.

My fear woke me up today – it’s quite similar to the loneliness but the fear has its own flavour – a horrified dread of the future, of where I feel like I’m heading. The spectre of an old age of loss, of isolation, of helplessness looms and I can’t bear to think that this might be my reality in the years to come.

What I wouldn’t give to have someone by my side, a companion, to hold my hand through the scary times, to bear witness to my triumphs and my griefs. To reassure me that I’m not alone. To touch me so my skin can once again remember what human contact feels like. To show me that I’m loved – that I haven’t somehow fallen outside of the world, of normality.

Sometimes I feel like a different species – my life has veered off course so dramatically. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have the kind of life most of my friends and family are leading. Mine is so far removed from that.

It is Monday and the last time I left my house was Friday. I haven’t seen or spoken to another person since then, and even that was just people in the shops I visited – just tiny, passing interactions. I haven’t seen a friendly face since I don’t know when – maybe it has been a week.

This place, I haven’t really settled here – COVID is a factor but perhaps that’s just an excuse. I feel so disconnected. Not many people know me here and none really, really know me here. I don’t have many who I can call and they would come. I don’t have social friends to hang out with and go to a movie or the pub. My friends are all more than 10 years older than me. I don’t know any men here.

It has been two years since I last went on a date – thanks COVID, but perhaps that’s just an excuse. I don’t have faith that there is somebody out there for someone like me. Maybe I’m just too weird, too fussy, too unattractive. I don’t know. But there it is. Maybe I’ll always be alone. I need to prepare myself for that possibility – it is looking quite likely, I’d say. I hate that, I hate it.

I just want a hug. Someone who cares for me and wants to hold me, to put their arms around me and just hold on for a while. I want to feel the weight of somebody else’s hands on me. That’s what I need today. But I won’t get it.