The ceremony was the easy part. A heavy, suffocating blanket you pull over your head in the morning, hoping to disappear. It’s the phantom limb of a connection that was severed, or maybe one that never even formed. It’s the ache in your chest when you see a couple holding hands, the bitter taste in your mouth when you scroll through curated joy on social media, the hollow echo in your apartment that used to be filled with laughter. You tell yourself you’re independent. You tell yourself you’re strong. You tell yourself you don’t need anyone. But the truth, the fierce, undeniable truth, is that you are starving for connection. You are a banquet hall with the tables set, the candles lit, and no one has come to the feast. Let’s call it what it is. It’s not just “feeling lonely.” It’s the gnawing belief that you are fundamentally unlovable. It’s the deep-seated fear that you are somehow separate from the rest of humanity, a ghost at the feast of life. You’ve tried to fill the void, haven’t you? You’ve filled it with work, with food, with sex, with shopping, with endless scrolling, with anything and everything to numb the