He came home. It was dark, cold and silent. That was the hardest part to get used to. The silence. His house used to be full of noise. Full of action. Now, it was just a shell. A place to lay his head at night. Alone.
Thoughts tend to betray when sadness dominates. He knows this. Yet he keeps a room in the dingy hotel where loneliness resides. In some ways, it’s comforting the emptiness. It’s been with him most of his life. He remembers feeling this way as early as 8. Just apart from everyone else. It used to be easier to fight off. To lock away with a smile, a laugh or even a game of hoops with friends. But as the years multiplied, so did the power of that dark force. He’d be at a gathering -- a party, a concert, a sporting event, anything -- and sadness would show up and butt into a conversation. Rendering him silent.
Dogs seemed to know. When he was in places where dogs were roaming around, they would migrate towards him.
“That dog sure likes you!” or “Too bad you’re not a dog too!” were the kinds of comments he’d get sometimes. Many times, he’d just say “well, the dogs and me, we just get along better than people and me.”
His first girlfriend, at the age of 20, took away a lot of the power of loneliness. He remembered bits and pieces of feeling like this. Like when he walked home with the girl he had a crush on in high school. They talked, laughed and simply talked like people are supposed to. Not like the insanely shy person he was inside the walls of the school. He knew where she lived. Had rode his bike past her house many, many times over the years. Yet, when it came time to take the turn to her house, she hesitated. Said “see you at school tomorrow,” and walked down a different road. He took the cue. And the sadness tapped him on the shoulder. She moved away soon after.
That first girlfriend treated him like shit. He really didn’t mind. At least she was treating him to something. Eventually, she cheated on him and dumped him. Married that guy. Started a trend of girls coming, then going away with their eventual beau. It made him cringe when they made a movie much like that, except that guy was a happy-go-lucky dude, who seemed to enjoy the curse. Which, really, is what it is. Hell, even the lesbian he dated “married” the first girl she was with.
Now, he thinks back on all of it. Every day when he comes home to an empty house. Friends tell him to get over it. To go out. Yet, they don’t go out with him. They’re married. Most with kids. He’s just the old single guy now. Attractive women call him “sir” now.
He used to hang out with loneliness and his pals bottles of beer. Luckily, that’s a thing of the past. For the liver and for the wallet. Still, he can’t help but think that those bottles actually contributed to his state. His lot in life. Along with this own insecurities that he can’t figure out from whence they came. He’s tried. Even in therapy. To figure out where these awful thoughts came from. A few months ago, a breakthrough of sorts. His dad admitted he was depressed. Had been for decades. And he “understood” his son’s feelings and failures more than he had before.
Hearing that made him feel better. Since then, he hasn’t dredged the bottom too often.
A line he wrote down, he thinks it’s somewhat original in thought summed it up.
“I knew I was over you when those songs didn’t remind me of you anymore.”
Even though he knows he’ll never be over it, it’s just not possible, and people who say they are, they are just better at covering it with dirt than he is. Because the deeper you bury it, the less likely it is to come back and grab your ankles.
So now, he opens up the blinds every day. At least when it’s warm -- bad insulation and all. Lets the sun shine in. Brighten up the house, brighten up the day, brighten up your mood. That would make a good greeting card or cheesy Target “room art” piece.
Mick Jagger belts out a tune and Keef a riff. Friends are visiting this weekend. And loneliness can stay in his room alone for awhile. He likes it better that way anyways…
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