Lonesome
There is something about being wide awake on a rainy night and being alone that really makes you feel kind of shitty. I don’t feel I need to explain myself here. Obviously being alone isn’t commonly associated with fun times (despite the fact that we all need alone time at some point or another). I just think that as I sit here and look out the window, watching this cold rain fall and the steam rise from the street and the forrest, that my mood is amplified by my surroundings. It doesn’t help that I am listening to City & Colour (aka Dallas Green).
As I lay here I think about all the other possibilities for my life. Other places I could be- both for better and worse. I could have changed a decision here or there and been in a completely different place both physically and mentally. This is not to say I am dissatisfied with my current state of affairs or state of being; just that I am pondering the alternatives. I wonder how I would fare in a different city, with different friends and away from family. I wonder if I could make it this far on my own. I wonder if there is someone out there willing to love me as much as I am willing to love them. I wonder what would happen if I sold it all and ran myself into the ground pursuing the life or lives I’ve considered living. The artist, the photographer, the poet. The painter, the biker, the farmer. Homeless, loveless, fearless. No, not fearless. I could not be fearless.
The steam still rises. The rain still falls. I am wishing there was an arm around me to reassure me, to comfort me- even though I know it will all be fine. It is always fine. I am fine.
