About loneliness
It is late and I feel alone.
Around this time last night I took the razor to my skin again. It felt like it was for no reason whatsoever. It felt just like a need. Something I had been thinking since a few weeks and suddenly it was just time to do it.
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I feel very empty and alone. I think I feel like this when I do it. Alone. I keep repeating it…
I am not alone, in reality. I have a family. I have friends. Where is this dreadful emptiness coming from? Why do I feel like there is no one to talk to, when I could just pick up the phone and call at least 10 different people? Heck, I could just walk into the other room… But my loneliness is deeper than that.
It is a dark wardrobe stuffed with coats and dresses and dust and silence. It is a motorbike hit by a car, lying in the middle of the motorway. It is a ferry on a summer island, taking friends away as they choose to leave me behind. It is a parked car, by the seaside — being fucked in a rush over the handbrake by the man I love. It is a golden dress and knee-high boots meeting a few too many people on a new year’s eve. It is a room full of drugs and alcohol and a man with his arm raised over me. It is a summer of everything ending and a winter of friends meeting up and not calling me. It is a sailing boat with enough people on it, and not enough space for me. It is a bus stop in the middle of the national highway, and no one there to pick me up. It is an airport taking me away while the most important person is too late.
Loneliness is not in death. Loneliness is in abandonment. Abandonment both in being there and not being there. I’ve been abandoned in both ways. By family, friends and lovers. And maybe also by myself. Maybe I abandoned myself at some point…. maybe I never thought I deserved the love in the first place… maybe I got sick and tired of the hurt and scared little girl and instead of nurturing her back to health, I abandoned her as well. Maybe…
