They say being alone is not the same as loneliness.
Well frankly, I do not care.
Alone, lonely; I want it all.
I want to spend six hours in silence,
Staring at nothing and everything,
With only my shadow for company;
Even he might be banished if he’s distracting.
Lonely.
I want to read a book,
Forgetting to count the seconds,
Disremembering to note the minutes,
Unmindful of the hours,
Sleeping and waking,
Reading again,
Pretending to read,
Reading.
I want to listen,
To deafening rock
And soulful blues;
To country music
And urban rap.
I want to test my ears;
See how loud it takes to go deaf.
I want to dance.
Oh, how I want to dance!
I want to dance without inhibitions,
All wrong steps and funny postures;
Uncoordinated moves and embarrassing falls.
I want to dance without an audience;
And if I feel high enough,
Maybe I’ll sing too.
Alone.
Most of all, I want to cry,
To groan and grunt and lament and wail.
I do not crave sympathy or a reprieve.
I just want to cry in solitude.
Until I fall asleep or decide I’m satiated.
Then I’ll take a break, and then cry some more.
I want to cry.
Lonely.
Alone.
