All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Eleanor Rigby, Beatles
Tonight I came home in an interesting mood. I usually am not one for online chatting and all that business, but tonight was different; I had some indescribable desire to talk to anyone. Loneliness? Not so much, just a desire to reach out, I suppose. I turned to my computer and started powering up all the modes we beings have found to communicate. I was not online for more than a minute before a friend found me and strung up a conversation with: allison, why does life suck sometimes? and yes i know this is weird. sorry. I responded to this friend of mine, started a entirely unexpected conversation. Fate was tempted, I can hardly blame her.
From across the country, he started talking. Mostly confused over a girl, he was looking for a listener, I suppose, and found me. I listened, and offered what few suggestions I had, honest compliments I hoped could help. Throughout this exchange, however, I was only frustrated by a single thought: I do not remember him at all. He had said in passing that we hadn't spoken since 7th grade, an easy lifetime in dog years, but I couldn't place him. Pictures looked faintly familiar, but jogged no memories. I spent the next hour talking to a man I have no recollection of, as he opened up the contents of his soul.
It's easier, somehow, to turn to someone completely disconnected from the issues wearing you, who can offer new perspective, new light, or can just as easily remain in the dark entirely. Loneliness can invite day-long friendships, simple friendships which can sometimes offer the simplest moments of peace. Why is it that sometimes all we want, all we really need, is a stranger?
No comments:
Post a Comment