Tag: alone

Saturday night solitude

At the moment, it’s 10:15 PM on Saturday night (there goes a little bit of anonymity, right? Time zone revealed. They’ll be on to me soon…..)

I sit here alone in the dark, trying out some bizarre ’80s synth music mix in the background. People all around the city here are out and about. Meeting. Having a fun night, or an awkward one, or one that’s yet to be determined. But living. I am not.

Sometimes I think that the depression is a main culprit in distancing me from the word. But then I remember that there are deeper roots to it than that. For example, my grandfather died when I was 12. He was a very close family member. Did I feel the typical sadness or mourning from that? Not at all. You could say that I didn’t even care that much. And as I lost a couple other people very close to me in the last few years (including my father recently), it wasn’t a whole lot different. It hit me a little more (especially that significant life-altering change of losing a parent), but not THAT much. This doesn’t mean that I have no conscience or lots of sociopathic tendencies; I still have a heart for the well-being of those around me. But when it comes to something deeper…..it’s just not there with anyone. Family, friends, or significant others. And it never has been.

That being said, I have always had various people somewhat close in my life. But not in that inseparable way (or in that way where you’re often hanging out on weekends, etc.) That was a part of me for all of about 3 years at college, and for a very short while in my mid 20s later on. Other than that, most of life has been just like it is now. Either choosing to be alone, or involuntarily being the person who is just on the outskirts of a closeknit group. Mostly an outsider.

So I stare blankly ahead. Knowing that more of this empty, fairly meaningless charade of life may continue indefinitely. And without escape, as I’d never be suicidal (another of my few significant fears is death, and none of my troubles will ever override that).

An empty vessel. Wasting away the only life that he’ll ever have.

It’s not an enjoyable existence, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Loner chronicles

I grew up as an only child in goody-good 80s suburbia, which got me used to plenty of both alone and social times. But like most people, I tended to learn more toward one of those ways. As I hit my teen years, there was little doubt that it would be the loner side. The fact that I was more naive and a shade different than most other kids also fed into that tendency. So while I am totally comfortable socially, I find myself often wishing (when out with others) that I was simply home alone instead. Unless I’m doing something that I really enjoy, or am with someone that I really like. I imagine this social pickiness is something that many socially-adept loners can relate to….

Despite this, I often tried to date during my 20s (and had such a steep learning curve about it). Unless you’re a natural, and I sure as hell wasn’t, there is SO much bad advice and off-base ideals that an adult guy needs to wash out of his system in order to understand how real world dating actually works. By my 30s, I’d become a lot wiser about the subject and enjoyed dating that much more. But at the same time, I started to feel a lot more empty. Not because of heartbreak or bitterness or anything related to the opposite sex; it was just my emotions starting to shut down even more than before (from my other life issues in general).

Throughout my life, I had always had a sensual side that contradicted my cold-hearted bastardness. Thoughts of an incredible connection on both the inside and outside. Mutually passionate desires with someone that exploded while Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” was on in the background. But as the years went on, those things just didn’t matter much anymore. Because not much as anything seemed to.

So nowadays, I haven’t bothered to meet up with anyone much lately. It just doesn’t seem fair to present a facade of being open to something real (when I just don’t have the emotional capacity for it). The fact that I’m unhappy with my physical condition for the first time doesn’t help either. I’ve basically become the guy equivalent of a spinster. And the thing is, I don’t miss it. When you’ve become such a shell on the inside, being single is simply not painful.

What I DO miss is this: being the person who was capable of having that passion that I mentioned above. The one who looked forward to experiencing those best things that life has to offer. The one who didn’t feel that his best years were behind him.