It’s been almost three months since I wrote this title, but not one other line. Back then, I just couldn’t find the words after a sleepless, cried out night that I can hardly recall. I wanted to put down some ideas in the morning, but it hurt so badly I wanted it over with. So, why now? Maybe it’s the theater play I saw last evening that triggered something. Maybe it’s a dying summer still holding on some heartbeats. Maybe it’s a feeling growing stronger in the underground, while I’m busy living somebody else’s life. I don’t know, but it’s been almost three months ago when I last felt as terrible as I do today and when I wrote this dreadful word: loneliness – a stamp on my existence.

This is not an essay. This is not a lament or a prayer. This is not a text supposed to make sense, as nothing else does anyway. Though, here it is.

You once thought you loved someone – deep, intense, devastating. And they hurt you, and you suffered, and you got over it, and you forgave them. You did that so that you could make peace with your soul and because you loved them. When you love, you should want the other person to be happy even if that happiness doesn’t include you. So you forgave and wished them all the best – or so you thought. What if malicious thoughts come now to haunt you and you realize you haven’t actually forgiven and you don’t actually wish the best for them? What if you came around to see you’re not the nice person you thought you were, and you’re not pleased with how they are happy? What if you catch yourself wishing someone does to them what they did to others – not necessarily to you? Not only they once made you suffer, but they also crippled your humanity, and this is so much worse than a heartbreak. You pray to God not to sooth your anguish, but to help you learn how to honestly forgive. You’re not there yet – what does this say about the horrible person you found within? What have I done, what have I become…

Somebody told you a long while back how you meant the world to them, how they loved you, and treasured you, and built their world around you. At a point, you decided to leave and they begged you not to – but you walked on dead bodies, followed your guts, crashed that world without looking back. They mourned, then they recovered, and build another – more solid – world around a new love, a new life; you cheered that sincerely, as you indeed wanted them happy. But you couldn’t not notice how they changed, and did things so differently, the way you would’ve welcomed in the initial plot – like supporting the other’s dreams and endeavors, like having their priorities right, like being more responsible, and aware, and present. You’re not jealous and you’re still very glad for them, but you’re envious somehow – not because they got their lives back (and you haven’t), but the way they did. And you can’t help but ask: was it that they just didn’t love you that hard, or did they learn from their mistakes? And does this matter? Were you not worth the same attention, and support, and awareness? Didn’t they feel that from you, so why bother returning? Did they realize the misbehavior when you left, and then it was your fault you didn’t outline it earlier, when there might have been ways of correction and healing? Why does this shadow you joy towards your friend’s being happy and whole, finally? You pray to God to deliver you from these mischievous thoughts, as useless and infamous they are. Is this the same horrible person you discovered earlier? What have I done, what have I become…

There’s soon to be one year of mourning, since one of my dearest friends died. I miss her dearly and may God rest her soul, after an excruciating disease. We come into the cradle and descend into the grave by ourselves, with no one else but God on our side. Humanly, we are alone. But all the way between birth and death, we may have company – good company, love, support, understanding. She was not alone until the very end. She had her sister, she had me, and even when the pain and drugs got to hallucinations, as long as she was sane she knew all that. We annoyed her but we loved her, each in our own way, and she annoyed and loved us back, from joy to desperation. My mother is getting old and, although I pray to God she lives a thousand years, the common sense says she’ll pass away before I do; until then, she has me – sometimes selfish, sometimes helpful, but there nonetheless. She knows it and I’m glad this puts her mind, and old age, at ease. It’s unfair, but still I’m envious on those two: I won’t have their luxury. When things get hard, when old age and body weakness hit me too, when disease and death get nearer – I’ll most probably be alone. Like the title. I won’t have a sister, or goddaughter, or a child to lighten my world. I am alone; I don’t want that, but I don’t want just anyone in my life for the sole purpose of not being alone. I may sound arrogant or perky, but I don’t know anybody whom I consider worthy of my companionship and love right now; anyone I’d give up my freedom for. As I have to admit, loneliness comes wrapped in freedom; I’m the only master of my actions and time, not of soul or thought or feelings – that is never in doubt, no matter who is or isn’t by my side. I do pray to God to give me hope, and strength, and sanity; I pray He should take away my despair and skepticism. Or at least the desire of not being lonely and help me make peace with it. Or at least the wisdom of choosing right and not give in to the need of having someone – anyone – by my side when the clock is ticking away. I pray He should help me see myself enough for my own needs, yet to prevent me from driving away those who’d want to get close.  I don’t have the courage of praying for anything else, as I might not know what to do with it. What have I done, what have I become…

(10 oct 2019)

3 Responses to Loneliness

  1. Pingback: NOTA BENE | Însemnări

  2. Hana says:

    Uluitoare disecție! Fantastica descriere in care ne regăsim atât de mulți. M-am întrebat de atâtea ori dacă singurătatea nu este altceva decât incapacitatea de a iubi. Capacitatea de a iubi pe care o pierdem treptat pe măsură ce acumulam ani. Si m-am mai întrebat dacă este o metoda de a o capăta iar.

  3. Q says:

    We are all a mixed bag of good and evil and inbetweens, we can’t just wish everyone well, though its probably healthier we didn’t wish them anything otherwise.
    People (sometimes) learn from their mistakes, especially if they bump their head hard enough.
    Unless you work for a 3 letter agency, it’s safe to presume you only find the information people want you to find about themselves, remember that when you stress about your exs new relationship.
    You usually can’t be with just “anybody”, like I usually can’t just eat tree bark.
    Love is a lot like cake, if you like cake, then just have some cake without worrying the cake won’t be good enough, you can’t know without taking a bite.

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