You get used to it, the loneliness. Though some days are more difficult than others, like the walls are closing-in. But it passes. And you just return back to your business, a little of this, a little of that, don't forget to eat. All you must do is eat, & sleep. The hours are yours in-between, it's always so quiet. You can hear the pen scratching the page. Eventhough this is the best pen you have at the moment, it writes the smoothest, you barely have to press, you hear it nonetheless.
You forget how long it's been. The days blend. All-of-a-sudden it's Autumn & it's dark by 18:30, but we'll be setting the clocks back, here, soon, too. It's 2018. It's un-seasonably cold already, it's already snowed & it's only just the middle of October. At night it's only just above freezing.
A year it's been, even more. Last October you can barely remember what specifically you were doing. Or, you had the job, you lived at your mom's. You house-sat for a friend. But it was more of the same, really, stuck in that routine. Think it's been just about a year you recorded & set-up that podcast, just to do it, to strech your technical abilities. I was happy, I remember, proud of myself. Think I finished by November, too, that novel I still can't bring myself to edit—it's too personal, my cast-of-characters those I was surrounded by at the time, my family, I don't want to use them for the thing. But I was drowned in activity—or, attempting to be, anyway.
Though I kind of laugh now. I called that activity. How the job stole so much of my time, so much of my energy, but I so desperately needed the money. Yet, I did still manage to squeeze-out at least something, some form of creative activity or another. But I could have managed so much more. Like I'm trying to now, the impressive productivity, the quality slightly by slightly improving. This is what I was supposed to be doing.
And then Winter came. I've mentioned before, that I was just blank. I was silent on the blog till almost February, I think it was, tapped-out by then. All my energy was used-up trenching through the snow back & forth to the job. For months, it's all I did. But I did learn in that time, however, how to dissolve into the trees, I'll forever be grateful for the ability.
What am I getting at? I wish I would already. The loneliness, how you're so lonely, you don't even realize, you've become so used to it. From Winter, I don't think I snapped out of it till I moved here, to be true. And maybe those first about 2 weeks or so were bliss. I was happy, excited like a little kid, new scenery, a whole, new life ahead.
But it crept back in, I remember feeling it, it hit hard, right there at about the end of August. Which, it passed, like it does. But it passes like a season & leaves behind its winds, its temperament, you don't even realize till you're snapt out of it again—if you're so lucky. Which you are.
It's a familiar voice, that's all it is. It was heart-break, you old fool, that old friend, again & again. But you've become so numb to it anymore. It leaves you like this now. It doesn't hurt like it did. But it was it, still.
Almost an English accent, that is, she's lost your American twang & reverted to her proper pronunciation again, it's been so long.
You only recognized because you felt your heart begin to warm again, you didn't even realize. The rubble cracked from it bit by bit & beat again. The color started to return. But you were cautious. A lonely Christmas, a snowflake on the nose, & the cold wind, that's all you get.
How long's it been, then? Just over a year-&-a-half, can you believe it? You passed like that, like stone, just tumbling blindly along, you had no idea.
To which you know very well, that you'll return. Almost right-away, you'll return. That's all you get, just a hint, just a sip, the very tiniest taste, all you get on which to subsist. And then it's back out into the wind you go again, you must keep moving.