loneliness. the world would be a better place without me. i am not enough.
in a home, alone, pervasive thoughts weave through my head as i ponder what it’s like to be happy. ephemeral, it seems to be. out the window, i see dogs prancing and yuppie couples walking hand in hand pushing a stroller with a new baby boy, or baby girl; the stroller’s contents are of little concern to me. the apartment door opens and shits as neighbors carry on with their lives, a constant reminder of the doors between me and the world.
i scathe the beauty before me drawn out like a theatrical play, too fanciful for reality. comparison is inevitable. i am self-sequestered – scared of persuing happiness out of fear of failure. if i truly try to succeed at being happy, what happens when i fail? the consequences seem to outweigh the benefits, as my prodigious anxiety paralyzes me in a cocoon of jealousy and loneliness. we want what we cannot have and we act with fear of our unrealized potential
i could, of course, reach out. i could do better. i could make an effort to make friends, bar hop on a saturday or indulge my creative tendencies out in the world, where they could be noticed and possible accoladed. but what if? what if.
when the stroller and vapid Bernese mountain dogs and $500 leather boots and keys to an audi stroll past my window i am inundated with thoughts of jealousy. comparison. to deal with my subversive nature, i scathe their daily routines, their BPA-free coffee mugs and laudable professions. i convince myself that i do not want their lives. scorn. but internalized, hatred and jealousy work the opposite way you want them to.
i am eaten inside by the forced callousness of my own thoughts and feelings. in truth – we are sentient, sensitive beings. loneliness serves us only as a neglectful companion, a boorish friend, baring its teeth at the door when you come home. but this is familiar. this is comfortable. like a doe, sequestered in the dark forest from birth, we too are fearful of sunlight; of joining our herd in the green fields of merriment.
my mantra is to want what they want. to want to want what they want. to live a life contingent upon other things than my own persistent worries of the future. there may be fence posts by which to mark my progress, but in no way are they linked with wires by which i can easily follow a given path. the post of marriage. the post of a promotion. the post of children. the post of travel. the post of happiness. it seems others are being led by some unintelligible force, leading them to a premeditated course of action.
for me. for me? for us. for us? i string my own wires. i dig the holes and walk the course. i try and i often fail. i am blinded to success. i am not enough. the world is just too much. i want to want what they want. i want to want when he wants. i want it all. but i want nothing but the comfort in the miserable cacophony of my mind.
as life changes course, taking little notice, we derail. we can only hope this derailment shatters the body and frees the mind.