Tag Archives: solitude

Static

… my life at the moment.

For the last fifteen years in fact.

Don’t get me wrong. I moved out four times during that time, renovated two properties from top to bottom, I went on vacation twice a year, published books, wrote a novel took my customary long walks, hiked found new hobbies learned new things and yet it is boring and sedentary compared to how my life was before.

I don’t know… maybe because for the first time in my life I am not alone anymore. Funny because for the first time in my life also, I have no friends, not even mates or acquaintances, no co-workers no neighbors (I am talking to) and for the first time in my life I’m faithful. Yet I’m not alone, I don’t travel alone, I don’t go to the shop alone, I don’t eat alone or sleep alone. He is always with me.

He is always with me that sometimes I want to run away. Go as far away from him as possible. Vocal and brutally honest I am I tell him sometimes exactly how I feel. I said: “You’re too present you’re choking me.” No answer.

I ask for divorce once in a while. He always said no. And we go on as before. Mind you, if he will say yes, I will sign the papers blindfolded. That’s how much I meant it. Why I am not pursuing the act? I’ve been there done that. It took me three years to get rid of my ex I don’t want to go through that road again.

And here I am, comfortably present but not living. Not the kind of life I want to lead. I am Sinbad of the Seven Seas, what am I doing in prison? I guess old age does that to people. Old age and chronic illness. Chronic illness and faithfulness. Faithfulness and love. Or is it care and gratitude. Care gratitude and guilt. The eagle has to land sometimes. Build an expensive nest full of designer things and eat beautiful food and drink expensive wine. Go on a cruise and drive a BMW. Why is it that I am not happy?

God, I’m becoming a cliché. I become one of those I vowed never to be. I can blame no one but me. Life is how you make it. Sometimes I rather live in a dump if I’m sure it is going to put back the smile I’ve lost on my face. I can think of thousand different things I rather do places I rather be. Jonathan Safran Foer once said:

“Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.”

That’s exactly how I feel.

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Fraud

…that’s how I feel when someone gives me compliments and praises my abilities and achievements. I feel like a fraud, a pseudo, I don’t have so much belief in myself. I find that my capabilities are nothing to praise about. They are ordinary, common, anyone would be able to do them if they really want. I am not special, I am not unique. Most of the time I feel like a fake. What do you know, I can rhyme!  Even that is not noteworthy. Even children can do that. The easiest form of poetry I find. And haiku, they are easy to fabricate also. I’m sure you know the drill. What I’m talking about anyway. My life is the opposite of who and what I am. I’m masquerading through the days convincing myself that this is what I want even though my brain is shouting: “No, it’s not!” It’s for the best then I reason and on paper, and at first glance, it really is only it doesn’t feel that way and I find myself sinking deeper and deeper each day. Fading, till I am barely recognizable even to myself. Am I unhappy? What is that? First I have to know what happiness is before I can separate the two from each other. All I know is something doesn’t feel right. Like an itch that you cannot locate but it is definitely there somewhere and it’s driving you crazy. And there is this emptiness, a void that keeps getting bigger and bigger as the days, weeks, years pass by. My whole life is a fraud, not real, a fake, a pseudo of what I imagine or would like it to be. And I don’t know what to do to change that.

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Grainy

I feel like a fish out of water, a bird in the sea

But in the mirror is a girl who looks just like me

She goes through each day like she did before

Suddenly she just isn’t content anymore.

 

Each day is so fake, words are so hollow

She takes all this in, but it’s hard to swallow

Who is she, this girl that I see?

We look so alike, but how can this be?

 

I’m a horse in the city, a dog in a cage

A little girl in a body that’s three times my age

That’s not me in the mirror, no not at all

This girl hangs her head low, I held mine up tall.

 

How did I get so out of place

I want to look in the mirror and see my real face.

I want to hold my head high, I want to see;

There’s a girl looking back, but… she isn’t me.

 

(from a stranger I don’t recall the name)

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Reverse Nightmare

Depression is such an overwhelming feeling. It’s bigger than anything. I’m terrified of it. What if I can never crawl back from that all-consuming aching chasm? I’m so scared of having to feel that horrible feeling that I do everything I can to avoid it. Distractions are amazing. Run away, go back to sleep, furtively bite nails, watch some mindless comedy, swim, read, walk, paint, write. Just don’t be alone with your thoughts. Until there’s no escape and you have to confront it.

– C. Milford

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