The Price of Loneliness There is a loneliness that doesn’t come from being alone; it comes from being the only person left to hold up your own world. When my home became a battlefield, my car became my only refuge—a locked metal box in a parking lot where I could finally breathe. I watched as life ripped away every friend and every safety net, until the only people left were the broken and the dangerous. And instead of running from them, I ran to them. I didn't value my own life enough to protect it, but I valued theirs enough to risk everything. I became the person I wished someone would be for me. I stayed in the rooms no one should stay in and drove into the neighborhoods no one should enter, all because I couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving another soul to drown in the dark alone. I was a stranger's last hope while I was losing my own.