What I heard

It was 8 o'clock when I woke up from my nap. Pm. I fell to sleep with the intention of doing something tonight, but not until I took a short, half hour pity nap. I woke to the alarm on my phone and the credits to movie I slept to.

It's Saturday, and I haven't got a single call today, or text from anyone. I went and sat on my patio, my dirty and barren patio. A patio so sad and unkept anyone walking by would think the place was abandoned, and the small green plastic table and old wood fold-up chair were left behind. I smoked a cigarette that I had earlier promised to god I would never smoke again. I broke that promise as hard I wanted not to, as earnest as I had promised it. Did I break it out of self pity or because I just didn't give a shit about my personal outcome anymore? Both. No doubt about it.

Halfway through my fag I heard several younger women scream. my head turned to the noise with surprise because I didn't expect a scream here, in this complex, from so many women. That scream was followed by jubilant laughter, laughter melodic with the original multitude of original vocal owners. What I heard in the middle of it was jumbled voices near hysterics saying something over the other voices doing the same. As suddenly as I had turned my head my heart squeezed it's way into my throat, and my eyes began to sting with infant tears.

Where did my life go? When did I stop having friends to surprise and laugh with? When did I start spending all of my free time alone, busily distracting myself from my pain and sadness, acting out mental plays with myself to pretend all is well, all is normal and the show must go on. Am I really that undesirable to be around? Are the limited social interactions I have with people nothing more than reminiscent adrenaline shots to memories we shared, or are they sympathetic outreaches for duties sake?

I can't swallow.

I know what my immediate reality is, and it is desolate. Dusty and windy, and hot. Not a soul in sight, just my weather torn jacket collar hiked high to my cheek bones and the rim of my hat down in my eyes.

I miss my life. I really do. I am so confused and lost right now I don''t know what to do. To reach out would be to seem needy to me. My co-dependancy is so bad that seeking out friendship and companionship makes me ashamed. But why am I so bad that other people don't want to reach out to me to see me? Is my distancing airborne? Am I so far removed from how I was that the friends I had don't recognize me or feel helpless or did they never care much for me to begin with?

This cigarette is disgusting. They always have been but true to my nature I can't stop poisoning myself even through the best intentions of doing so. The laugher has subsided, but the loving chatter remains, and I'm sure as the night ages and liquer vanishes from their glass boundaries it will get louder still. The creation of memories, maybe embarrassing regrets, but always future stories to call upon in the next coming together.

It will be dark soon, and I still have a half bottle of good scotch. Maybe I'll stay out here and write some more. Maybe the darkness will shade the streaks of my tears. Maybe their laughter will ease my mind, or become a player in my own introverted adaptation.