contagious

Well I guess I'm lonely and I guess that doesn't mean too much because a lot a lot a lot of people in this world must be lonely too.
Every season has it's own type of loneliness. In the fall I'm missing some one to go on car rides and go apple picking with. In the winter I'm missing some one to share a bed with. In the spring I'm missing some one to start feeling alive again with. In the summer I'm missing some one to go to the beach with at night.
It's the fall now and everywhere I go I see pretty girls. Some of them are with boyfriends; others are alone. I wonder if the ones who are alone are as lonely as I am. I wonder if they're lonely enough to be friendly to a stranger who approaches them.
I think to myself; "With all this free time I could be writing, drawing, reading, creating something." But when I try, my mind remembers how lonely it is. I'm plagued with thoughts of sex and handholding and the words that I want to put on paper can't seem to make it there.
The music stops inspiring as it all starts to sound the same. A new Atlas Sound album or a new Ghostface are one in the same.
So I sleep. My dreams become more and more difficult to tell apart from reality. A girl straightening her hair or a room mate cutting fingertips off of gloves become memories that I'm unsure whether or not happened.
I sleep and no idea is worth writing down on paper. Coffee or bacon are not enticing enough to get me out of bed.
I sleep while my loneliness and my depression are nothing compared to anyone else's.
I sleep and wish for nothing else.