**ENTERED INTO THE WRITING CONTESTS BY wallflower_r**

I lean back on the black walls, relieving my aching back. A small squared window lets some rays of light fall on the plain floor I rest upon. I trace my finger along the criss crosses of the black tiles, feeling every little bump that flaws it. My right hand unconsciously twists a soft black lock, toying with it and finding amusement even in the way it bounces up and down.

Peace is all I asked.

I hated how the rain water splashed on my dress every time I went out. I hated how the gooey mud dirtied my new boots every time I crossed the streets. I pulled my hair at the annoying sound of the latest pop music blaring out the radio. I hated everything.

I always sat in a corner, wanting to free myself from the unwanted annoyance that surrounded me everywhere I went.

How I loved peace.

But what I am experiencing right now is far from peace. Peace was according to me, the feeling you get when you shut your eyes and hear no sound. Peace was not worrying about anything.

But I was so wrong. So awfully wrong. That's not what peace is. Peace is not not feeling anything. Peace doesn't make your insides cry out in pain. Peace doesn't make your soul black and drench you off of feelings. Peace doesn't make silence deafening.

It's something else. It's called loneliness. I say that I am feeling lonely. But in fact, I feel nothing. That's why I feel lonely. I feel like an inanimate object that has been drained off of her life. I hate feeling loneliness. I hate feeling empty. I can't make anything out of the black color that drenched my room. I can't make anything out of the plain ceiling staring viciously at me.

I can't enjoy the sad song that loneliness composes. It pulls at my heartstrings, composing an empty lullaby. It spreads like an infection through my body, numbing each of my senses until I feel nothing. Until I don't care about anything. You know that it has captured its prey when that sickening thought rings in your head.

I am lonely. No one likes me.

How many ever times someone screams out to me, telling that they are there for me, my brain refuses to accept. It puts my walls up, challenging the seekers to begin their adventure. Daring them to break down those walls and reach their hands out.

I yell aloud as I hear their voices outside of my four walled chamber. I feel their love shining through the same window. They urge me to punch the walls harder. I cry out loud and beat my fists against the walls. My heart aches for the love but my mind distracts me. The white ceiling slowly cracks itself open. Light falls on me from all sides, making my insides warm and loved. Butterflies flutter around in joy, flapping their wings as a part of the celebration. I smile so wide that it hurts.

But as soon as it starts, it stops. The voice in my head screams louder than their pleads.

No one likes me.

The walls regrow again and the voices slowly fade away. The butterflies freeze in time as they fall dead to the floor. I find the remaining inch of life sucked out of me as I drop down on the wretched black floor with no more hope igniting inside. I opened my eyes to the uninviting darkness and listen to the sound of silence, no longer waiting for the walls to break down.