when you remain

August 21, 2006

There comes a point in every sleepless night when everyone else has long turned out their lights and closed their eyes to the world.

And you remain.

No traffic whizzing past your door, no friends awake to remind you of your inner beauty, and no song to play that could perfectly fit the loneliness that matches your mood. Because you aren't really alone; because really, across the expanses of land and ocean, there is someone somewhere who is lying there awake and dreaming the same dreams and naming their fears. Just like you.

This world is such a funny thing. How could I feel so alone when I'm in the middle of one of the world's most densely populated landscapes? Surrounded by city lights. When I'm blessed with friends beyond compare, in numbers some can only dream of?

I know we all feel a little bit alone sometimes. Like we're lost in the blur that becomes our days. Like we're just a face in a crowd. But knowing that other people feel the same never takes away from the odd and not-quite-melancholy sensation that comes at this ungodly hour of the night [that has somehow become morning].

But it's alright.

Come tomorrow morning when I roll out of bed, this will have passed. I'll forget for awhile how I could have ever been this empty. And the sun will shine, the traffic will fly past my street again and the palm trees I can see from my window will look as Californian as ever.

And life will go on.