Particular Moments

More Stars than There are

Tag: loneliness

part 3

no beginning or end--just a seemingly perpetuating road

                  no beginning or end–just a seemingly perpetuating road

Solitary & Floral

Lone_Florals

                Overlooked wonder unjustly dwarfed by Bricks upon Bricks.

When In Doubt

Stop and think in Noir.

                                              Stop and think in Noir.

After Hours: Part 1

Room with white walls; an array of empty armchairs—all vacant but one. It is past dinner time—most occupants of the building have returned to their private lives. The only audible sound is the muffled hum of a custodian’s vacuum cleaner down the dimly lit, after-hour empty hall.

After the day’s work is done, what remains is an optional, yet if chosen, sacred time of isolation.

Sometimes being alone is a choice, other times it is thrust upon one, whether he/she welcomes it or not. Solitude, albeit at times unbearably suffocating, is in fact a vital element in life, for nothing surpasses its potency in establishing one’s true identity.

In a crowd, a social circle, amongst families, friends, and next to lovers, definition of the self has an inclination to morph into a patchwork of largely external obligations: you are how you are seen and behave how you are expected to act—a different set of rules for a different herd—make a few changes here and there, but all the same: out of social decency, we give up some of our true colors—to fit in, to appease, perhaps to even obtain what we want (as sleazy as it sounds).

But in the absence of influence, when all we have is our surroundings, the intrinsic aspects of ourselves begin to take lead. We are then how we think and how we perceive, all without the interferences, considerations of outside evaluations.

.

I often like to stall a little, wait on people to take off to where they need to go, and be the last person in the room. And there I would stay, just a while longer—just enough to gather up a few uninterrupted thoughts.

Sometimes I enjoy a late night walk on the backstreets, and fantasize that there is not another human being in this town.

Once a while I’d drive out when most road vehicles have returned to their respective driveways and garages and parking spaces. I’d roll the windows down, and welcome the incoming breeze. It is only on an empty road that one can truly experience wind’s earnest embrace.

I’d look round and round, slowly and tuning in on all the tiny sounds. I’d try to make everything count—until I could finally grasp the solid person still residing in my shell.

Phew, for a minute there I thought I’d lost myself.

The rewarding notions of affirmation, peace, and rescue from these solitary moments are incomparable to any other instance in the daily rounds.

Alone, I am myself again.

The Pleading

Sick

To death

Of my nonchalant

Toughness;

 

Of concealing

What hurts

With a shrug,

 

Saying “there’s more where I come from,”

Shoving the shouts

And tears

Into back pockets

Until they are bulging

At the seams.

 

Emptiness is eating away

The best of yours truly;

Someone please

Spare your

Tenderness—

 

Bring me back to life

With your calming

Touch and Kindness.

 

Modern Gaze Span

We live in

A Lonely,

Loney

World.

 

We rarely

Pay Attention

To One

Another—

 

The times

We do,

We expect

Thrills,

Something-Something

Brief,

Something-Something

Inducing

High

Stimulus—

 

No room

For elaborate

Words,

Regardless of

However

Genuine

They might be

In their

Intents.

 

We only

Care

To See

The fragments—

 

Fragments like this,

Not tiring,

No sacrifices

Made—

Dry,

and

Convenient.