Trusty companions for a lonely existence — @belleartmovement

Trusty companions for a lonely existence — @belleartmovement

By Alina Simu

On the right and left side of my pillow, I find scattered thoughts, as if some of them left my head to rest a little while, perhaps they’re tired of rolling in the back of my mind like a broken record all day long. Unfortunately (for them) I don’t drift away into a deep sleep, I stay awake, which means they have to do their duty, they have to whisper to me.

Sometimes, they have to work a little bit harder to create images from scratch. The little guys organize a whole theatre somewhere in my mind. The movie I liked the best was of me and you, stretching on the freshly cut grass (can you smell it?), rolling and laughing like children, holding hands, me kissing your knuckles.

Other times, these little fuckers search for the deepest fears of mine and find a suitable movie for it. When they’re nice they make this horror films very short, like a second or so: what if you end up alone? (gasp!) what a burden you are to your family! (gasp!) do you feel happiness or do you just bully yourself into thinking you have no reasons not to be happy? (gasp!) you can become crippled at any point (jesus!), and other titles. What little fuckers these thoughts are and how I despise them sometimes.

Breaking through the window, some rays of moonlight seem to have come in searching for me. The thoughts quickly climb back into my mind, fearful of losing their human. I get the chair and I place it next to the window after I’ve pulled back the curtains. Sometimes it gets so lonely that even the moon seems to have some lovers, those shiny little stars (such sluts! only sun knows what’s going on when the moon goes down). I watch the darkened windows from the building next to mine and secretly wish a stranger will call for me or at least wave at me.

The stillness of things. The feeling that everybody is moving further and you’ve just come to see their show they call life, but when will life happen for you? The stillness of things. The predictability of every single day takes the form of a failed marriage. When will life happen for you? When will you start relating to love songs? When will you have stories to tell? You think the next year will be better than the last, you think high school will be better than middle school, you’ll do better in college than you did in high school, it’ll get better after college, all of these are a bunch of pretty comforting lies. You wake up alone, you go to sleep alone, that is the universal truth. The stillness, the stillness, the fucking stillness! The stillness of things, the little fuckers, the stranger that refuses to wave back and you rolling on the grass with me, they are trusty companions for the lonely days or nights or existence, for some of us. 



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