She’d heard the phrase ‘loneliest in a crowd’ somewhere; it was one of

She’d heard the phrase ‘loneliest in a crowd’ somewhere; it was one of those idioms that just seemed ubiquitous, without ever having a source. It was said, and so she’d heard it. But it had stuck with her, because some part of it has resonated, struck the bell of her core and it hadn’t quite stopped ringing just yet. It wasn’t that no one was paying attention to you when you were in a crowd, that’s not what isolated you. It was that you had all your quirks, the parts of your personality that made you who you were, and these people moving around you knew nothing of it. You were just another face, someone to manoeuvre around and avoid, an obstacle between their A and their B. You were an annoying C, in between.  The phrase, as specific as it was, left her feeling numb. It slotted into so many situations, because she was a girl made up of secrets. They filled her, each one threatening to spill out when some minor catalyst spurred the thought of them into the forefront of her mind. She feared the repercussions, and that was why they remained secrets, but she also feared giving them a voice, of forcing them into an existence exterior to herself. She didn’t want the world to know, yes, but she didn’t want to confirm it to herself, either.  It was hardest of all when it came to him. The man who she trusted most of all, the oblivious partner in all this. He smiled, furrowed his brow in mild confusion the times when she would trail off a sentence, having the courage to start, but never to finish. Some mumbled excuse would placate his momentary unbalance, and they’d get back to their lives. She never told him. She couldn’t tell him. Because she might not like his response. Because he might not like what she said.  She couldn’t tell him that she wanted to bring rope into their bedroom. That she wanted to be a brat, and have him duly punish her for it. She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t want to use his name again, and just give him the respect that she could feel burgeoning inside her. She couldn’t tell him that she wanted to be owned by him, not just in a mutually level partnership. She couldn’t tell him that he already did, in her head.  She tried a few little things, hints that might set him down the path she desperately wanted him to tread. Suggesting handcuffs, passing it off as a joke when he got that confused look again. Asking if he’d ever thought of spanking her during sex, just for fun. He’d shrugged, said 'I guess’, and she’d felt a little part of herself dwindle, just like that.  As lonely as she’d felt in a crowd, sometimes she felt loneliest of all when it was just the two of them. -- source link

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