He says he’s fine with his own company, but he’s lonely.
He often says no worries but he’s upset.
Wishes things didn’t change so much. He feels like all the seats being taken and its looking more and more like there is not seat for him. Slowly being squeezed out of relevance.
Weekends spent in frustrating solitude. He can’t focus on what he tells everyone he loves doing.
Can’t quite get past the first date or two. It kills him that he can pinpoint that exact moment something changes in the tone of their voice.
Not responsible or focused. Can’t focus.
Hates himself for being too scared of making the change that might make him really happy.
Tells everyone he’s content with his body and confident in his looks but deep down will do anything to be more desirable.
Looks like he’s happy and content but everything is empty and there is no passion or joy. On the brink of tears but can’t quite get to that point.
He’s performative, probably not fooling anyone. He definitely can’t fool himself anymore though.
Something’s gotta change, something’s gotta give.
He feels sick, he feels like he’s slowly dying inside.
Every night when he goes to bed, he longs for sleep, taking him to a place where he feels more alive than he does in wake.
He longs for release.
Month: October 2022
Rubbish
I’m walking to the gym, it’s 6:52am.
The construction workers are standing with their coffees out the front of the building site across the road. I can’t understand what they are saying. Long drawls and loud synchronised laughter like crows. Sometimes when I’m feeling anxious I think they’re laughing about me.
As I keep walking, I see the man pushing his mother in the wheelchair coming back from who knows where. Same time everyday, same empty eyes.
As I cross the road, I see this bird. It’s one of those common Myna birds. It dances around this piece of rubbish on the road. The plastic wrapper of a straw that someone threw away. The Myna pecks at it then picks it up as if it’s food or something of substance. It seems confused that it can’t get what it needs from it.
From where I stand, it seems so obvious.
I feel bad and I want to help but I don’t.
Oblivious to me watching, the Myna continues to dance around with the rubbish.
Knowing there isn’t much I can do, I start walking again. I’m thinking now.
I wonder who in my life is telling me to do the same thing when I make silly mistakes. When I dance around the wrong people or pick up something that isn’t good for me.
Maybe they’re just like me, they watch from a distance with pity and before continuing on with their lives.
I am no better than the bird with the plastic wrapper in its beak thinking it’s found gold when in fact it’s nothing more than rubbish.
Knowing I’ve stirred something up within me, I feel like crying. I feel sulky and emotional. I let my eyes water a bit and then blink hard. I let just enough out so I won’t cry during my workout.
The cold air stings and I quicken my pace.
Urban Solitude 