and sometimes the things that hold this room together fall apart, and with them the walls fall apart, and you go to the corner of the room, where the walls used to meet and you ask yourself how you ever felt comfortable here, lying in this bed, playing this piano in the corner, picking your shirt out from the pile. you ask yourself how you ever were able to shower in the green tile bathroom and feel warm. how you could take comfort in the fact that your friends live in the same city and that the water is always to your left and the city to your right, the sunrise over the city and the sunset over the water. where is the rain, you ask yourself. where are the clouds and where is the lake?
I visited San Sebastian while I was staying in Madrid. I stayed in a hostel alone and I remember deciding that it doesn’t fit to visit a place you love without the people you love. A return home is nothing without the people who make it home.
Jessie: i think it sometimes surprises us to find out that we are ok. i mean I wonder if because you did have such strong feelings for her, the sudden feeling that maybe you’re ok by yourself seems to devalue whatever it was that meant so much to you before
because only people who are truly cold can come away from something like that feeling like nothing ever happened.
so when suddenly you start to heal, you feel a little stupid for ever having felt hurt and you want to justify what happened. or rather, you hope that it meant something.
which isn’t to say that when you feel okay, it means it didn’t
but that sometimes you are ok, and sometimes you are not, and there is something nice about loving someone, even the aching part of it is nicer, sometimes, than feeling nothing or feeling alone.
or maybe not alone, but at least untethered
because i think the loneliest times are those when you feel closest to people. i don’t know. i could be wrong though.
though it is possible you feel yourself responsible for things and people that are actually out of your control.
my impression of you is that you do take on a lot in general. while the world starves for empathy on the one hand, it can be really hard living in the world as an empathic person
if you feel what someone else feels or even what you imagine they feel, then you’re dealing with your feelings and theirs all at once, which conflates how you feel and what you need
the lady behind the counter of bud's liquor in university heights.
In an indistinguishable accent, when the cash register says it’ll be $5.79 for the three tall cans of Budweiser we’re trying to buy and we only hand her $5.50, saying sheepishly we may have to put one back, she simles softly.
There was the smell of loneliness in the air tonight. It was almost nothing.
What does loneliness smell like?
It smells like frozen glass tucked in the side of a broken barn.
It sounded like a coin dropping from an open pocket into darkness. In the corner of a wet room water drops onto the slick pavement.
Loneliness looked like fish through a glass, the inability to share anything more than a simple awareness of being.
Loneliness sounded like the incessant drone of a crowded bar, a pocket of silence enveloping the corner seat, a thousand balloons in the grey sky all popping at once, all but one, slowly making its way to the clouds.
That was how loneliness smelled and how it looked and how it sounded, and tonight you could touch loneliness.