The lonely one.
The seventh month of the year, already.
The last two weeks to the previous month have been rather… uneventful. It was spent entertaining visiting relatives (“Myyyyyyy, how you have grownnnnnn!”) and popping pills (“Hmm, a high fever? My thermometer must be wrong… here, let me try again, just in case…”).
I can do without the extra attention, really.
New people come, but more people go. It makes me feel more vulnerable than ever.
Why are they quitting now? Is something lacking somewhere? What if I do it, too? Would it make me feel better?
Not that I am thinking of jumping ship, but I cannot believe that people in my current social circle are rapidly diminishing, as they leave for greener pastures.
No, there is nothing wrong with having the table all by your own. I just find the… scrutiny, disturbing. They do not have anyone else to look at, so they look at you, the unfortunate one being paraded for all to see.
Scooping that spoonful of rice is an effort on its own. Try to paint a picture of absolute nonchalance on your face. Sink into oblivion if you can. Let the ground swallow you up.
There are times when I do not mind the loneliness; some precious “me” time, if you will. Then there are times when I fear it; of how it drives those malicious thoughts into your head and turns you into a whole different person altogether.
Girls, I think a meetup is due. Before she becomes someone else’s lovely wife by the end of the year. Before she begins reserving her weekends for times to be spent with her new-found love. Before she runs away to a distant, exotic country, sipping cocktails and watching the waves gently lapping the shores.
Oh, well. Not like all three of them would read this, anyway, but looking at those descriptions… now that is what I call moving on, ie having someone, something – an ambition, a person, a dream – to hold on to.