Alone for the first time-- and I don't know what to do with myself
All these people Insistent beeping, buzzing, rolling, shutting
My collective mind Unraveling Before my eyes as I have No one to talk to to Connect with
Floundering thumbing through my contacts to find someone
Anyone
To make me feel wanted, to feel that my company, even if through a phone, is wanted, that I am desirable
As I fold in on myelf the Layers turning inward, eating themselves--
The waitress leans down and asks:
Is everything okay?
I respond, muttering:
mmhm.
It's killing me from the outside in you know...
But I don't say that
As the layers fold, the only thing that remains is a scared little girl just as frightened as she was the day she opened her eyes underwater and looked around and realized how eerily vast and deep the water was...
It still scares her. It scares me. And I realize that the one thing I can't stand more than Anything more than death itself: is being alone.
Why?
Because when I am alone with my thoughts That vastness that deep ocean of nothingness bathed in a burning, purified chlorine Haunts me
Because I cannot fill it, not even with the deepest of thoughts, the most vivid sentiments Cannot satisfy the depths of the reflective blue against a slate of unfeeling cement
Written: December 17, 2009
Author's Note: I wrote this in a Christmas card that was given to me recently. I was at Wendy's after I went to the movies with a friend. The christmas card was all I had to write in, so I used it. The girl cleaning up must have seen my face ******* up in concentration as I wrote feverishly, and was concerned for me. I find it ironic that she talked to me considering the subject of my poem, but I thought I would share the circumstances with you regardless.