I have grown accustomed to being alone, feeling the emptiness of sound and space. I know there are many metaphors for loneliness but when I am lonely, and I would like to remind that it is vital not to equate loneliness with being alone, I am beneath water. My gaze is transfixed on the simmering and semi-permeance that represents that very thin line between water and non-water. At first I am calm, collective and at ease, I am in a state of being that I have enjoyed numerous times, my body completely submerged. As time moves at a stand still I come to recognize where I am and what I am doing, seeing that I am in need of breath, in need to break the thin seal which divides one reality from its mirror. I will myself to swim to the top but my body fails to move, each muscle failing to tense adequately, fluid, yet not so fluid as to force my body to sink any further. Now I am feeling uncomfortable. I know I am "free" for I am not bound to anything physically, I am caught in an eery self imposed centre, the gears have stopped rotating and the tires no longer spin. As time progresses and the discomfort I experience begins to grow I feel a small bundle of panic swell within me. It takes hold slowly. At first I simply shrug it off within my mind; "at this moment I am not moving but in the next moment I shall be swimming to the top." It isn't complicated nor is it very worrisome. Tick tock. Time appears to compel me that, perhaps, my lack of movement is somehow important. I need to break the surface. I rationalize to myself that it is not yet an issue, a few more moments and I will move my body with the apparent ease that is natural within all of us. Tick tock. Panic sets in a little deeper. Can I move? Will I move? A transparent realization dawns on me, I need help. I can't break the surface on my own. As I feel the ghostly thoughts creep into my consciousness my panic, though still highly relevant, becomes secondary to the sorrow which overtakes my being. Alone, below the surface I can feel a chilling proposition slide across my brain, no one will help me. I am here, underwater and doomed to exist as such until the moment in which I will understandably draw a lung full of chocking water and finally sink to the bottom of my watery abyss. Tick tock. Sorrow and panic knock methodically on the door behind my eyes working in a horrifying unison. I am stuck. I will be in this state forever. I shall never break free and I become envious. I know others dive with ease and escape as easily. My jealously grows with furious speed taking turns with sorrow and panic, the three becoming the essence of who I am. Moments later I open my mouth.
That is what I see when I feel alone.
