The First ‘A’: On Loneliness as a 16-Year-Old Survivor

It was 7:31 PM on a Wednesday and as I stared into the wall that night, the last thing I wanted to feel was sorry for myself. Against every word the doctor spoke to me that dripped with his implicit condolences, my mom crying on the window sill beside my bed. With a quick post to Instagram I was showered with attention, likes, and words of encouragement—everything I needed to get me through… or so I thought.