Alone again

Do you ever feel alone? I'm sure I'm not the only one, the only one who is alone in feeling alone. We should all form a club of alone people and negate the existence of being alone.

But it's hard when the feeling is there. When you talk to someone and they respond in such a short manner. Short as in "angry" short. Short as in so brief and terse that you're left wondering why they were so short with you when you thought you were being so long, so open, so warm and inviting. Well, obviously not. Apparently I'm not being warm and inviting, neither long nor open. Apparently I was being short too, or mean, or annoying, or bothersome or cruel or something justifiably wrong that would explain the shortness that I received on the other end.

That must explain it.

Obviously I'm feeling alone. Sad. And for some reason I can't explain. It's that sadness when you feel you've done something wrong, made other people not like you. So your whole existence seems like it's sad and wrong so all you can feel is sad and wrong and you try and try so hard to figure out why it suddenly became all sad and wrong so you speculate and speculate and spin and spin around in your head so you're even crazier that you were before if that was even possible and now all you're left with is even more sadness and wrongness and an even deeper darker shade of blue. Of blue. Of a sad timid whispering blue.

Things really aren't so bad. I step outside myself. Tell myself to get out of my head, because that's what I'm supposed to do. When I start crazy-making in this great big noggin of mine, I've been told that it's just no longer safe. The best thing to do is step out of it. Focus on something else. Change my environment. Be aware of the present. Just anything that will stop that sucking deep down into the whirlwind of thought. Crazy thoughts. All jammed packed together in a tsunami of aloneness. Feeling alone.

And like I said, things aren't so bad. I actually got a good amount of decent writing done today. Writing towards the stuff I really want to do, you know. Words and rhymes and characters and times. All those things that I want to get down on page. And I read them out loud! Craziness enough for today all ready. Seriously.

I guess things will never be easy. Are they ever? It's all a state of mind, and if my mind is going to be as porous and concrete as it is, well, it's better to not expect anything at all.

But that can be dangerous too, can't it?