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Carry On My Wayward Son

I cannot understand why I am feeling so incredibly lonely tonight.

I am alone most of my daily life. I wake up alone. I go to work where I am surrounded by people but seek the quiet moments of solitude whenever I can get them. I come home and I am alone. I go to bed alone. This has been the case, with rare exception, for the past fourteen years.

So it should stand to reason that I am used to being alone. That when I go to bed at night I do not wander why the other half of my bed isn’t full. That when I come home from work I do not decry not having someone to unload my burdens to. That when I sit in my apartment at night I do not really yearn for someone to have dinner with me. All of these things are true, most of the time, for most nights.

But tonight is not that night.

Tonight I feel a distance between myself and everyone. Tonight I feel the cold hollow of despair creeping upon me. Tonight I am not just alone – I am lonely.

I do not know why I feel this way. It came upon me suddenly, but I think it has been building inside of me for a while now. Tonight, once more, I hope.

I cannot allow myself to feel hope.

 

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