I suppose I shouldn't be here, really. On a forum like this. A woman my age. But sometimes... sometimes a person just needs to say something. To *someone*. And there's no one else. Not really. Every night. Every single night, for... well, for years now. I eat my dinner with a young man. He doesn't know, of course. He's on a live stream, you see. Playing video games, or just talking, sometimes. I've always been one for routine. A good routine, a BAD routine. This is one of the latter, I'm sure. But it’s the only consistent thing. The only consistent CONVERSATION, I mean. I’ll make my modest supper—a bit of soup, often, or a microwaved meal, something easy. Because after a day of chasing those gig jobs, those freelancing scraps… my energy is just GONE. Drained. And I’ll pull up his stream. He’s a good kid. Kind. Funny. He talks about his day, his plans, sometimes asks his viewers questions. And I… I answer. Out loud. To him. As if he’s here, across the small table in my small kitchen. I’ll tell him about Mrs. Henderson’s cat, the one I fed today. Or the copy I wrote for that dreadful marketing firm – soul-crushing, that work. He’ll laugh at something, and I’ll feel a warmth spread through me. A genuine human connection. A PARASOCIAL one, I know. I’ve read enough. I understand the psychology. The illusion of intimacy. The one-sided emotional investment. It’s all very clear. Very clinical. And yet. When he says, "Goodnight everyone, thanks for hanging out," I feel a pang. A real, solid, ache. Like a friend just left. And I'm alone again. Every single day. Every day.