I was crying. Having a pity party with myself. I knew this and had been knowing for a very long time. But again, I was alone. And I was tired of living this life alone. Spent many of my life's years doing just that, staying by myself, being alone. I didn't like being alone any longer. I could only guess that with time one started understanding by looking at oneself every day in the mirror that time never stops. One doesn't stay the same age with the passage of said time.
When I was in my youth I thought of nothing but the sweet sound of silence in my own place, alone. Having my own solitude, my own walls to my various apartments I had lived in being my fortress of isolation. Now? Now was very different. I knew with every second of every day that passed my life was getting shorter and shorter. And with that, my time, my life on this earth was doing the same, and my life would end soon. Subsequently having nothing but time to myself, maybe total darkness of emptiness for eternity...I didn't know exactly, but I knew that one died...alone. And I had made up my mind that when it was my time I wanted someone to be there. Maybe along side of me. Maybe gone to the store but would be back in time to be with me when I finally crossed over to... final loneliness.
I thought it was so apropos, most of my life to be named Singleton. I had looked my given birth name up in the dictionary and I smiled, because it made all the sense in the world when I was just a senior in high school.
Singleton - 1) An individual separated or distinguished from two or more of its group.
Interesting I had thought at the time. But what was the most enlightening experience I had ever had about my affinity for solitude was when I read the next definition:
Singleton- 2) An offspring born alone.
Fuck that! A name is just a fuckin name! And fuck that shit! For real!
Peace! More to come...
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