Tagged: alone


There’s something welcoming about those hours just after midnight. The city sleeps, and yet here I am, awake and alone. I stand at my balcony, searching for some sign that there is anything living out there besides me.

Sometimes I look up at the stars and I wonder what they’d look like when viewed from a place far from here. Would they remain the same, an anchor to this life inescapable? Or would they be different enough to help me forget? How many other people are sat at their computers right now, alone, searching for some way to communicate with a kindred spirit?

I welcome the night because it’s the only companion I have in these hours just after midnight. Sensible people are in bed, minds switched off. Oh to have that luxury! I could try sleeping, I guess. It’s just so hard to stem the pitiless tide of images which relentlessly bombard my brain. a million images, a million sounds, crammed simultaneously into each instant. They’re as impossible to process as they are to ignore. And then every so often I see a face, a fleeting glimpse of a smile. Sometimes I recognise it. Sometimes it’s new. Are these people I’ve met? People I’ve yet to meet? Or are they merely just my brain trying to conjure up some sort of companionship to stave off the despair?

Even when I slip through the veil into the dream place, there’s no respite. My dreams are vivid and confusing. I wake up several times a night. After I finally separate the dream from reality I am left to ponder what it means. I’m usually no closer to a solution before I drift off again, a slave to the visions from beyond.

And so here I sit, talking to everyone who spares the time to read this. But nobody talks back.

Is there anybody out there?

The final come-down

The memory of yesterday’s extraordinary experience is still fresh in my mind. Perhaps that is why motivation today has been on the floor. I am due to move into a new flat in a little under a month’s time, and (fortuitously) I currently have a week off work. My plan was to spend the time taking rubbish to the tip, taking most other things to charity shops for donation and generally sorting out my possessions ready to be boxed for shipping.

Today I have done virtually nothing. I have sat playing guitar, I have drunk some coffee and I have written a blog entry. I cannot motivate myself. The kitchen’s a mess. I should tidy it up. Can’t be bothered. I have a heap of clothes to be washed. Can’t be bothered. The room in which I am currently sat is untidy and filled with rubbish which really should be thrown away.

I cannot be bothered.

It doesn’t help that my car is currently off the road, the brakes having failed. Supposedly it was going to be fixed at the weekend, but that never happened. I am trapped in this dead village, purposeless and alone.¬†The poor motivation is getting dangerously close to self-loathing now. With every word I type, Arnie is shouting “STOP ¬†WHINING” in my head. Meh. What’s he going to do, beat me up?

So I guess I need to weigh up my options. I could continue to moan on the internet to a possibly non existent audience. Pros: it’s actually quite cathartic; it keeps me busy; I enjoy writing. Cons: It makes me sound like an irritating idiot; nobody reads it anyway. I could tidy the kitchen. Pros: It would make the kitchen tidy (duh); I could drink coffee out of a fresh cup. Cons: The kitchen is freezing cold; washing up is one of my most detested chores. I could try and sort out this room. Pros: It needs to be done before I move, an early start would be beneficial; there’s LOADS of stuff I could throw away. Cons: It’s dark in here and I broke the lightbulb yesterday; I really can’t be bothered; the car doesn’t work so I couldn’t take the rubbish anywhere anyway.

I guess the other option is to sit and watch a film. I watched Blue Valentine a few days ago and loved it. I think it’s telling that I get great pleasure watching a film which others have described as “the most boring, depressing film I’ve ever seen.” So yeah I have a couple of films like that I could watch. Namely Little Children and Melancholia.

That voice is nagging me again though. The one which says “Karl, you’re on your own again. How does that make you feel?”

Yesterday reminded me that I was alive. Today is the absence of that feeling. Once again I feel impossibly alone. I’m probably not, in the grand scheme of things, but still the feeling persists.

It’s a happiness hangover.