MeliGoesRogue

There are those of us who know the meaning of the word lonely. It is not this superficial thing that is said to indicate sadness or a desire for company, but rather it is the howl of our soul on a moonless night. In recent times there is this sheet that has gone from hovering above me to laying gently yet securely upon me- I am the beginning and end of my own family. This is the depth of loneliness, this is the understanding that your movements, emotions and needs are out in the wilderness with no one knowing your even there. I think there is a freedom that comes with accepting this, or at least as someone in it is hoping there is. These moments of awareness of true despair are never more magnified than in a group of friends. My needs, do not bear in the minds of others, there hearts can be with me but their own needs and desires seem to always trump mine. I long to be equal, to be the one whose needs are primary. It is their mind I desire, for there lies their action while in their heart only their sympathy.

There are those who call my heart dramatic, yet there are others who can read the words as the razor pierces their fragile skin. Needing to be marked by something even if that is pain. To understand that these emotions are not dictated by the jobs we hold or the family we do or do not have. It is marked by the absence of care, the cold side of the bed so to speak.

There is this film I love, which plays on repeat in my head. There is this moment where one of the characters speaks on the fragility of marriage and relationship. When he recalls the woman of his youth, the girl he used to “lull” around on endless Sunday nights. The finality that these moments have. It is in these moments where the past which we have grown accustomed too collides with the unknown albeit inevitable future, that we become reckless. When we see the abandon as a curse instead of secure gift. ” Some of us try to regain our consciousness, some of us blow up our homes and some of us take up piano…I’m taking up piano”

This is my piano- I fiddle with the keys in the hopes of regaining consciousness to this life I am leading that has no relation to who I am or what I want. I think this is why people get dogs- someone waiting for you, someone to be excited when the lock clicks and the door opens. The one who patiently waits while you take your “lesson”.

I wish sleep was my solace and I could power off and recharge, but the night only holds sorrow and dreams of which I do not have and some I even fear. I’ve said too much, and yet to me not quite enough. But my finger tips grow cold and my back weary. I retreat once again in the hope that what lies is hope not fear.