Left alone

I have never felt as lonely as I do tonight. I don’t know why. But it’s like the night has closed in on me and I’m pushing back, but it’s of no use at this moment. The cold fingers of the dark have me all wrapped up in a cocoon of aloneness.

Maybe it’s because it’s not been sunny in over two months; or maybe it’s the howling wind and grey skies that promise despair and coldness to even the most happiest of souls. Miley Cyrus’s bouncy beats are even failing to move my lonely thoughts. I know I shouldn’t be so melodramatic about such things. This lonely thing needs to be conquered.

I have to accept that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life; and it’s moments like this when I think like that when the thought overwhelms me and I do realize just how alone I am. It doesn’t matter how many friends one has if there is no one who is willing to partner up and help carry part of the responsibilities and worries and fears.

I had no clue what a massive thing that was until I had to do it all myself. I’ve cried more in fear of being alone for the rest of my life than I’ve ever cried before in my life. It’s a silly thing to be afraid of being alone. I can do what I want when I want; in fact, I really have little desire to be with someone lest they make me conform to their ideals and thoughts on life.

These horrid nasty little spidery alone thoughts only creep into my consciousness when I’m sick and my body is rebelling against me. There’s no one here to ask how I’m feeling. No one to bring me a glass of water if I’m coughing. No one to bitch that I sound like an elephant calling her young. It’s not really that romantic to be so solitary. The great poets and writers were unto themselves for the most part; and most died some horrific death or penniless.

I know why. They no longer cared about themselves. There really isn’t a reason to keep yourself in shape or in good health if there is no one else to think about. You become a selfish creature and do what you want. Why should I worry about adding years to my life when it’ll just be me? I won’t miss when Im gone, and I won’t have anything to live for. I get why married couples live longer.

So, the dread of the alone has me in its nasty, scary grip. I want someone to snuggle with when Im terrified of the world, or when the world has me beat down. A little island of refuge would be heaven, and yet, as realization settles upon me like the night, it will never happen.

Me. Alone. Get over it, self.