AUTHOR'S THOUGHTS: Just a short piece about the feeling of being alone. A little angsty, a little sad. I hope it touches your heart or affects you in some way.
You walk through the rain, through the city, which is silent in a way only a city can be, void of all sound and you feel all alone and forgotten among all the grey buildings.
How long since anyone called you?
All the lamps in the apartments you pass are turned off. The only light comes from the flickering streetlamps along the road.
The trees are bare, all the leaves have fallen off and lies on the ground, rustling, flittering in the wind.
Can leaves get cold?
You're cold all the time.
The air is cool against your face, and you see a white cloud leave your mouth when you exhale.
Your lips are parched and dry, and you long home to your warm bed. Your umbrella turned itself inside out and broke several blocks back, and you're wet deep into your soul.
Your heart pounds against your ribcage, one beat at a time, and the sound echoes in your ears. It is comforting in a way, a proof you're still alive – you haven't faded away and disappeared into nothingness.
How long since someone spoke to you?
You can see your apartment now, and you increase the pace of your steps.
You long for the spring, for sunshine, for dawn.
You miss the light.
How long since you were happy?
Your hands shake and you drop your keys three times before you manage to insert them into the door and twist the handle.
The door is heavier than usual, but it opens at last and you slink inside, grateful for the heat that meets you in the stair way.
You eye the elevator, but decide to take the stairs: You don't feel like exposing yourself for small spaces, and didn't it get stuck as late as last Friday? Or was it Thursday?
You can't recall- the days and night shave begun to drift together, and time has no meaning when your life is the way it is.
When you don't have anyone to spend it with.
How long since anyone hugged you?
You reach the third floor, and you take out the keys again.
Your door is easy to open, and you step into your apartment, your own little refuge, your sanctuary. The only thing you can call your own.
It has been a long time since you were your own, and not just a face in the crowd, one among all others who desperately tried to fit in with the rest.
A smudge of grey among millions of bright colors.
Your apartment is dark and when you push the light switch nothing happens.
The electricity is out, just like everything else in your life has disappeared and left you to your fate.
What is your fate?
You didn't use to believe your life was pre-destined. You used to be completely sure that you were the master of your own life; your choices were your own.
That was a long time ago.
Everything is different now.
Different, and bleak and empty and lonely and grey and gloomy and lonely and cold and deserted and lonely, lonely, lonely.
Who are you?