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Am I lonely, or am I insane?

Am I alright, or am I inept?

Am I sure, or am I dead?

Every single day feels like a continuous loop that plays by itself without any consequences. I am living in a world with no one but myself to talk to, a mirror that mirrors my words with a wry smile. I hide myself beneath the soft pillows of my earphones, drowning out voices of beyond,  for I know what lies there will be my own demise. My own bare self exposed to the outside world to see, with nothing left but brittle bones and a heavy soul.

If anything, I describe this feeling as... Loneliness. Yes. Lonely. I am never alone, do not get me wrong. Humans surround me like vultures circling near a carcass, wagering inserting their opinions and life values into my already bruised mind, and constantly cajole me with the wonders of life. Despite all the positivities in my life, all these vultures whose intentions have never been evil at best, I feel like I am facing the world alone. Alone, in a sea of darkness, their wings flapping wildly but with no visible view of these creatures. I see only myself, standing in the streets, the crossroads that dictate my life, and the roads lead to nowhere but down. Down. Down into the realms of worldly, almost zen-like tranquility that it scares me.

The peace is comforting, but the silence is not. I cannot listen to anyone but myself, and I cannot bear to. No one is serious, no one is real, and I am the only living vulture that stays on the ground, pecking on the sands of time and flying to the one colored rainbow of the future. Rest? Listen? Talk? Communicate? How am I supposed to do all that when I am alone?

When I am lonely?