I’m the sort of person that needs a lot of time. I don’t know how to place it. You meet people and it’s great. There is a moment where an exchange is sought after and realised, and the idea of interaction is made beautiful again. But it always saddens me that the people you meet have the potential to pass you by on the street four, five years in the future and just totally ignore you. I think we know that feeling. It is as if the time and space that your paths once intersected never mattered at all to them.
Or perhaps the intersections did matter, but both parties assumed the worst of the other and so they walked past, not saying anything, never betraying the slightest tilt of the head in passing. They may still hold the itch of yearning deep within some wounded recess but alas, this desire never meets the surface. Who knows for sure?
To say that I enjoy loneliness comes with its own baggage. At one point of our lives (or our day) we will feel that we deserve loneliness. Too many people around, too many interactions, too many frivolous notions being passed around like night snacks to hungry recruits. The time to be lonely will come soon if it hasn’t yet arrived; after all, loneliness doesn’t need an excuse. Loneliness doesn’t have to be physical, just like love or hate doesn’t have to manifest itself in hugs or punches, loneliness is a state of mind. Loneliness can be felt in the warmest of situations, the most crowded of rooms, the longest of WhatsApp messages, the tightest of hugs and the wettest of kisses. Don’t doubt me on that one. Loneliness is something you’ll have to work around your life.
I think I’ll need more time to figure myself out. Be with people, be alone, be with people, be alone. I don’t want to do things with agenda (the idea of that sickens me) and I don’t want to rush into knowing people because that doesn’t go down well in my dictionary (I of all people should know that people need time to open up).
There is no conclusion to this post from me, but I leave you with this poem that someone shared with me. The ideas are nothing new, and it is these ideas that we hold within our chest and keep us awake at 2 in the morning. I’ve read it a second time since and there is a certain harmony in the sense of loss, how loneliness is used to incapacitate and heal all at once. It is this ambiguity that attracts me to such ideas.
And also, I’ve been down for the past three days with a bad case of flu and sore throat. Please, please, please don’t evolve into a fever or any other monstrosity; I want to feel ok again.