Rite of passage

There’s no bigger loneliness
Than being alone in your inner circle.
The people you grew up together with,
Who knew everything about you,
Who understood you before you spoke…
Will not always be able to do so.
You think it could never happen,
To others maybe, but not you.
And yet, suddenly, it breaks down.
Your ‘friends’ can’t even see
The things you can’t look past,
And you couldn’t care less
About the centers of their universes.
It is a horrible feeling indeed,
But there’s some good news to it too.
All rites of passage require
That you detach yourself first
From wherever, whoever you were before.
So the loneliness, it’s just a mark
Of your liminal, transient position,
On your way to bigger, better things.
You will belong somewhere again,
Sooner than you might realize,
With people that deserve you this time.
So just bear through it a little.
It’s nothing more than a rite of passage.

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