The Cost of My Loneliness

I always told myself I was popular, that I had lots of friends… And I don't blame myself, it seemed real, so many posts together, sometimes wishing me a happy birthday, and other times just hanging out — but what did hanging out even mean if we were only staring at a phone screen? What happens to people who isolate themselves from the real world?... I never questioned it, I just ignored it, ignored the noise of being alone, almost like a dream you don't want to wake up from. I felt so popular that I even ignored people who had no status, the most invisible ones, the ones who moved through the shadows. But that day so… Fateful? Revealing?... I don't know, I'd rather not put a label on it… That day I finally discovered I was very alone, so alone that it would come at a cost, the cost of my loneliness.

I was going through personal problems — my mother, Susana, was lying in the hospital, suffering from an illness we still knew nothing about; the doctors said the results would come in 7 days. So, almost automatically, I disappeared from my social media, the center of my life back then.

Days passed, and not a single message, nobody wondered whether something had happened to me, and that was what hurt the most, because even though I considered them my friends, apparently there had never been any real interest… And so it was with everyone, everyone except Marcos, the classmate whose follow request on Instagram I had never accepted, because to me, to my stupid head, Marcos lacked "status." But that day the guy wrote to me — only a few hours had passed, and he, always watching over me from the shadows, like a guardian angel, sent me that message, a simple but special "Hey, Gustavo, everything okay?" that filled my eyes with the glow of my phone screen and with tears, tears that slid down my cheeks with a fluidity so new to me, and so, fleetingly, almost as if begging for more of what had made my heart come pouring out, I wrote back "Hi, Marcos, the truth is no, my mom is very sick in the hospital," and with a sigh I pressed the send button in the chat on my phone, clinging to the light in this life of false darkness, waiting for the noise of my loneliness to cease…

It didn't take long for Marcos to write back, with that characteristic attentiveness he gave me every time I needed it, and every time I ignored him… "I see, buddy, do you need anything? Do you want me to come keep you company at your place?" was his reply, but what surprised me wasn't what he offered — it was that word… "Buddy." Did he really consider me his buddy? How could he consider me his buddy?... My heart cracked like damaged glass. "He's too noble," I thought, but I quickly pulled myself together to give him an answer: "Thanks, buddy… Some company would do me good." I dared to use the title "buddy" with the guy I had ignored so much… How shameless.

I was still waiting for Marcos's reply when I heard him at my door… That was fast, really fast… But of course — when have you ever seen a stray dog turn down that much food? I let him in, and in complete silence we walked to my room; he took off his backpack and left it on the floor, pulling out several bags of chocolates, candy, snacks, and two small juice boxes from it. He tossed one at me — "Catch," but I let it fall. He laughed, boy did he laugh. "Your reflexes are terrible," he said between laughs, and finally, I cracked a small smile. He didn't make a big fuss — he left the snacks on my bed and sat down beside me. In a harmony so natural that even I didn't understand it, I put on a movie on the TV. It didn't take long before he asked about my mother: "7 days?" I turned my gaze away from the television, in silence, overwhelmed by the memory of my mom lying in that damned bed. "I understand, I'm sorry," he said with distress at my reaction, but all I could do was nod slowly and turn my attention back to the movie.

The night passed and the movie ended. Marcos got up from my bed — it was at that moment I realized… Were we cuddled up?... It had been so natural that I hadn't even noticed. It had been so… real. My eyes fixed on him, but this time it was different, it came with a knot that fell from my throat down to my stomach. "You're leaving already?" was all I could say. "Yeah, I have to get back home, but as soon as I'm there I'll message you, okay?" And I, so innocent, lying on the bed with a world of emotions in my head, told him yes.

His message still hadn't come — it felt strange. How do you arrive so quickly and take so long to return?... Suddenly a void appeared in my chest… I had never spoken to him before, we had never been friends, I had never invited him to my place, I had never told him my address… I was still swimming in my thoughts when my phone, just like when he had sent me that first message, lit up. "Made it home." And once again my eyes flooded with tears, but they weren't the same as those from before. I quickly opened Instagram, and my life on that social network consumed me again, but it wasn't the same — this time I felt foreign to it, though, to be honest, I was only thinking about how I preferred those who stayed on the margins of my life… While I had wanted attention, the cost had been too high.

Another message came and pulled me out of the trance: "You there?" Marcos… It didn't feel the same anymore. My body trembled, but there was warmth… my hands were sweating and, honestly, I didn't want to reply… Then another message came, almost as though it were someone else entirely — Marcos wrote: "Answer me."

What had I gotten myself into? How lonely does a person have to be to accept attention from anyone? How stupid do you have to be not to realize it?... I could see it now — Marcos didn't just like me, it went beyond that… He was always there when I needed him… Always… Even when he shouldn't have been, even when I didn't seem to be doing badly he knew I wasn't okay, he always knew, he knew everything…

The front door sounded — soft but desperate knocks… I didn't need to peek to know who it was… "Knock, knock, knock," once more, this time a little louder, but I didn't move. "Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock…!" It wouldn't stop — he was completely desperate, he already knew… "Let me in, Gustavo!" he was screaming at me. All I wanted was to run, to hide, but I stayed there, on my bed, like a statue.

A crash was heard, and Marcos's laugh came creeping in under the door of my room — that damned laugh, the same one from when he tossed me the juice… The sound of the knives from my kitchen was what made me move. I ran to lock the door to my room and dialed 911, but it was already too late.

"911, what's your emergency?" came from the other end of the phone, but I struggled to form the words. "I… Marcos… Please help!" The blow to my door cut me off — it was no longer a knock asking to come in. "I need help, 19B Street, house #175!" another blow cut me off; this time there was already a small hole — Marcos peered through to look at me, followed by another blow. The call dropped and I panicked. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I screamed, with a courage I never could figure out where it came from. "I always loved you, but you never paid attention to me!... Now you're going to see who begs who." Predictable tears fell like a waterfall in the moment that Marcos finally knocked the door down.

What followed was the cost of my loneliness and of isolating myself… Don't make the same mistake I did, even though I never managed to write this letter or even see you.

Yours, Gustavo, from up here.

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*The Cost of My Loneliness*

By Patricio García

Published October 22, 2026.

© 2026 Patricio García. All rights reserved.

This work is shared freely for personal reading. Its reproduction or distribution without the author's authorization is prohibited.

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