the loneliest place
Someone said that the loneliest place is when you are in your lovers arms. Could this be because when we are in a room alone there is at least the hope that a warm embrace and moist lips will quench our loneliness? But when we feel their tender skin, gaze into their soft eyes, and still the loneliness pervades, we know deep down that we are still alone.
Why is it that I feel more alone in my mother's house then any other place on earth? We have a good relationship. I love her dearly, but I don't feel lonely when I spend time with my father. Perhaps, it is just that she is lonely. And it is though her that I feel the loneliness in myself.
It is most notable when we are alone together driving in a car to eat dinner at someone's hose that neither of us wants to eat at. The waning light of another meaningless day fades through fog on lush pastures and a distant ocean, barely visible through atmosphere. Or maybe its most noticeable when I sit at night alone in my room staring at a glowing liquid crystal display. Words appearing on the screen, one by one, with a click-click-click, over the ever-present sounds of frogs, crickets, and the slow distant roll of the ocean.
I seem to have a habit of hurting the ones I love most dearly. They always get upset at me. Sometimes they shout; other times they are silent. Once their pain fades they always appear to be better off. Nevertheless, they have a habit of deserting me. Is Karma when your life begins to feel like a broken record? What does it mater? Ether way, I'll still be alone.
Why is it that I feel more alone in my mother's house then any other place on earth? We have a good relationship. I love her dearly, but I don't feel lonely when I spend time with my father. Perhaps, it is just that she is lonely. And it is though her that I feel the loneliness in myself.
It is most notable when we are alone together driving in a car to eat dinner at someone's hose that neither of us wants to eat at. The waning light of another meaningless day fades through fog on lush pastures and a distant ocean, barely visible through atmosphere. Or maybe its most noticeable when I sit at night alone in my room staring at a glowing liquid crystal display. Words appearing on the screen, one by one, with a click-click-click, over the ever-present sounds of frogs, crickets, and the slow distant roll of the ocean.
I seem to have a habit of hurting the ones I love most dearly. They always get upset at me. Sometimes they shout; other times they are silent. Once their pain fades they always appear to be better off. Nevertheless, they have a habit of deserting me. Is Karma when your life begins to feel like a broken record? What does it mater? Ether way, I'll still be alone.