Alone

As I lay in bed, laptop-ridden, it suddenly dawned on me: alone. I am alone; alone in this room, alone in this house, which isn’t even mine, alone even if I can hear voices nearby. Even if I know for sure that in the room next to mine there is my first love, together with her newest love. I am alone in this town, which is in fact my birth town, where I lived for over 20 years. I am still alone in my heart, and in my mind, filled only with faint memories of mediocre feelings of my life-experiences. I must have been alone all my life, without even knowing it. Alone amidst my own, the ones I called my family. I must have been alone all the way through those fuck-nights. Let’s be alone together! OK, let’s!
But why now? Why the sudden realization? Is it because I am now more than ever conscious of my own brevity, of this obvious fragility and of the inevitable ending?  Duuuuhh, it’s not like I’m the first person that discovers it. And certainly not the last. Why? Is it because of the all-present pain, of the welling-up of tears, and of the shame I feel as they roll-down my cheeks? Or is it because of the breath-stopping envy at the laughter I hear from the other room? The spite and scorn, the contempt toward that room and the people in it? I despise myself for it, but at the same time I pity myself. How low can I sink before I can say: this is the lowest I can go?...
The phone rings. A friend – long-time friend, but an eroded friendship, out of which only politeness and common-sense kindness still prevails. It feels good though, even if it is just that. The tears stopped, the pain seemed to subside.
…Well, I might just as well go and see what the others in the next room are doing.