Some Thoughts On Loneliness

I get by on my own pretty well, I think.  I don't often find my mind plagued with morose thoughts.  I enjoy my solitude.  I have some pretty great friends here in Montreal, and I'm making more.  I'm independent and career-driven.  I can't say I really have much time for thoughts of loneliness.

But there's something about knowing how good it is, and how much better it could be, that gets me to thinking.

I don't struggle with this often, maybe just a for a moment or two - maximum a day or two - once every month or two.  For those couple of moments, or couple of days, I just can't help but think of all the great things I could be doing as part of a two.

Tonight I was biking home from my friends band practice.  As I cruised down the bike path on Maisonneuve I looked up and saw the moon.  It was huge and beaming down at me.  Something about the moon always gets me emotional.  Maybe because there's something in me that knows I'm not the only one looking up in longing.  I think the moon has felt more love, more broken hearts, more desire, more yearning, more sadness, and more wonder than any other celestial body.

It's like I was looking toward the moon for powers of teleportation.  Just to bike around the city in the warm summer air.  Just to stare at the moon.

There is truth and depth to the phrase, "sharing your life with someone."  It's what we want from a partner, from a relationship.  Someone with whom we can have a shared experience.  Someone we can show around, follow around, and show off.

For me, the quality of the time together and apart is so good that it makes the long stretches of solitude worth it - even when I get lonely.  But sometimes, I just want to go down the street and get Southern cookin' with someone.  Or go for a walk or a bike ride with someone.  Or see a show or listen to music or cook or bake with someone.  Or snuggle into my favourite spot on the couch and fall asleep with someone.

But "someone" won't do.  It's got to be someone in particular - that one person.  But it can't be.  So instead, I think about all of the things we can do together, whenever we get to be geographically together again.  Or I think about everything we've done already, when we were geographically together before.

It gets me by, but sometimes my imagination just doesn't cut it.  I want the real deal.  For longer than a few days, or a few weeks.

These spurts of undeniable loneliness make me impatient, sometimes irrational and insecure.  But for now, I have no other choice than to tolerate them.  I just have to wait.  And see.  And stare at the moon.  And wonder.