Because it is so lonely to be unwillingly wide awake at 1am. And no matter how okay you have been this week, here in the raw midnight air, the tell-tale tune tinkles in your mind, reminding you that you don’t really belong anywhere. You don’t have history here and you don’t have a future there, and you’ve alway been shit at being present. There is always this distance between you and the world and you imagine it like standing in wheat-fields in the middle of nowhere where even the wind is quiet.
So the last few days have been good. You’ve been drinking again which always makes you happy, and you’ve been exercising being imperfect. You’ve met some worthy people and have managed not to hate yourself as much.
But then tonight comes, and you feel so small in the noiseless night, and even though you are okay, those fields are there and you feel horribly, terrifically alone. And when you cry, its not because you feel wretched, but because it’s so damn familiar. Because maybe the fields are your home after all. Because you doubt, in such a simple, resigned way, that you will ever feel connected to the world for a prolonged period of time. You cannot imagine ever feeling not-alone. You have wasted your youth not feeling good enough and feeling sorry for yourself. And while you are sick over this, you wonder if perhaps others feel the same constant alienation, if maybe this sharp loneliness is normal and you are simply too weak to deal with it.
It astounds you how depression makes us so ungrateful for our exquisite lives.
It astounds you every time you realise how much you need, how much you have to give, how little you get sometimes.
It astounds you that someone as loved as you could feel so alone so much of the time.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, there is always tomorrow.