She liked it there.
Alone
in her room.
Safe.
Belongings to hand.
People thought she must be bored and
lonely.
But what is lonely?
She wasn't.
Plenty to do.
The sort that was comfortable
in her own skin.
That's when she was
alone,
that is.
To begin with,
they tried
to get her involved. Outside. In the world.
Then
they stopped.
No one bothered anymore.
She wasn't bothered.
No more than she was lonely.
It was when she wasn't
alone.
That's what bothered her.
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