Its a weird feeling knowing everyone in the world is out and about when you're at home, alone. It's not depressing, just weird. You feel genuinely alone. I hate to be so dismal but I have nothing else to do. And I know I hardly know what being alone is but on this one day it's hard not to feel this way.
My mom would tell me stories of when she felt genuinely alone. These were stories from when she was younger and I was just a baby. There's lots of these stories, and I genuinely wonder how she survived. She had me there by her side, but at only two, three, four years old, I doubt I could give her the companionship a soul mate could. You could hardly believe in soul mates after you heard these stories. You could hardly understand how she could ever love again. I don't think she ever did.
These stories are always playing in my mind, like a movie on loop. Always keeping me from becoming something I don't ever want to be. She's created a hell for me, but I love her more than anything...and that's how 'but' should be used.
Every once in awhile the movie will pause and I'll be free. I'll forget the pain I've lived with her. And it's in these times that a friend of mine always takes me back to that hell. A friend of mine who always texts me the same lyric just at the right times: "Wait for the day you come home from the loneliest part". "Look for the girl who has put up with all your shit", I always text back.
Its become something of a tradition, and every time he texts, I wish it was something we never started. Because I always come home from the loneliest part, but I'm afraid my shit is too much. I'm afraid she won't want to live this hell with me. I mean, who wants to stay at home when everybody in the world is out and about.
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