Loneliness is the feeling that affects me the most.
I feel it in my ribcage. It’s like a warm hum, but not a comforting one. The sort of reverberation, the fluid and toxic beat you get inside when ill, when every heartbeat is a sick one.
I think my biggest fear in life is growing apart. Either from family, friends, or from myself. I dream about getting every single one of my friends together, and just partying for a year straight.
Sometimes I get lonely not because I am alone, but because I realise there are a thousand possible futures with my friends that I will miss out on, because I can only live through one. Imagine if I was with my American friends right now, grabbing coffee on the streets of NYC or Colorado? Imagine if I was with my Australian friends, sun beating down upon my head as we listen to music together. Does this make me selfish? Maybe.
All these possible futures coalesce and stampede through my head, as I sit in my room, clawing at these computer keys. Life is beautiful, but it anchors you down to one place, at one time. We are contained within a linear temporal plane, confined to a singular space, moments upon moments washing up against us, through us, never to be recaptured or relived.
I think that’s one of the worst kinds of loneliness, but I think a lot of people don’t even know it exists. I want to be with the friends I haven’t seen in a long time, hold them, tell them they are beautiful and how goddamn much they mean to me. I want to tell the friends I see all the time the same, with every ounce of sincerity and emotion connecting us with bright invisible tethers that are supple but will never break.
I want to touch hands, see eyes, hear breaths, rub backs. Time robs me of this.
To all my friends, wherever you are, whether you think of me often or not at all, I have so much love for you. So much love. You are the gods of my universe, you are lightspeeds from across a bar, you are singularities in the great maelstrom of time, and for that, I thankyou.