My Thoughts, Isolation

A Story by Limitato

Isolation, it really is easy if you think about it. I’m surrounded by people who've known me for years and yet life has been meaningless to me for as long as I realized I wasted my childhood. I grew up around my mom and step-dad from about age 7. I never noticed how much it affected me until I was older and could look back at it from a view. I feel as if I don’t see things from the perspective of a fellow human. I almost enjoy the sinking sensation of depression because it reminds me I’m weak too. I don’t get that feeling about happiness, I don’t rejoice. I feel I’m so self-centered I’ve locked myself in a dark room and finding the key is hopeless because I slid it under the door. I don’t know if I’m waiting for someone to kick it back in or what, but if so they better hurry. Even if I was in that room alone with nothing around, fingernails are allowed to be a good enough weapon if it’s necessary. We all live in this world where love doesn’t matter if you care about yourself. Maybe it’s just me but I haven’t found the perfect formula of balance. It’s funny how I and so many others consider over thinking a bad thing. Doctor’s will put you on a medication that deals with your brain's natural chemical composition if you tell them that and give some reasons. “I can’t seem to make friends.” “My parents and I don’t really connect at home.” “School always has me so worried.” “I’m not comfortable in groups.” There’s a certain weakness you obtain when you edge into being different, people who were there for you focus on different things, you propel yourself away and the ones who care grasp at straws when they try to get you back. We all break at some point, there’s no one who can handle everything. More often the problem is not being able to handle enough, the world’s changed. I stopped distracting myself with Xbox, the silence is unsettling, we’re so used to the constant noises of the world that truly being in a void of distractions is bewildering for your mind. Coming home after being with people, hearing the door unlock as you walk inside, the patter of your feet walking past your belongings, dropping your carried items in the places you see fit, which might even consist of the floor. You stand there a second, staring at where you could be comfortably lying in a couple of seconds if you just took a little more initiative. You head to the bed, you left the light on. You thought you forgot about it but really you’re just reminding yourself you need to get back up and get ready. This is a choice, you lay there a little longer, staring at the area that’s around the light or possibly just an imperfection in the room like a crack or something else off. Times like this is when I think the most, like a short example of what life is like. Waking up alone, going out with friends, coming home alone again. Rinse and repeat, make sure you wash all of it all. That’s when you appreciate silence, you’ve been so busy talking and listening all day, the white noise in your head is especially sticking out tonight. It’s late of course, are you tired? No. You shift around, waiting, for what? Do you know? I wait for the noise to come back, the distractions from interpersonal life. I can’t stand the idleness, what happened to the excitement? I was laughing about the night when the music was playing in the car but when the door shut it all came back. All of it, an ephemeral rift you delve into when time and thoughts slip by. You think about the night, the people you got closer with, what if you said this and they said that? Would that have done something differently to make you not lay here alone? The noise is still there, you feel it, you know it’s there during the day just as much, but then when the sun’s up and the noise is constant you don’t focus on it. More like you can’t. There’s a peace that comes with the vibration, it’s steady, constant, and through your day really it’s there with you all the way. I focus on the noise, you shouldn’t, but it happens. You’re still lying there, Occasionally you check your phone, of course there’s messages, maybe even from some you care about. But at the time, you wonder; does it matter? Is what you’re doing even worth while? I can’t feel it. Can you? The vibrancy of life is dull when suddenly you take in your true, persistent, undying urge to find comfort. I haven’t found it yet, maybe one day, right? You showed energy the entire day, you were undoubtedly tired when you were coming home, and yet here you lay. Sometimes you drink to numb the pain, that sounds so typical and you know it. Not tonight though, you want to put more fire blankets on these fiery internal demons. They scream in your ears, scratch at your rationality, tearing down whatever you build by the time you wake up again. This is their time, you had yours out in the world, they claim you were greedy with the day. So now they claim the night while they can. They clamber and crawl to the back of your mind, cutting loose and pushing forward suppressed memories. People you never wanted to picture again, places you never wanted life to unfold in again, situations you never wanted to endure again. It’s not usually the places or the people, more you think about what you did to get you where you were. How did you not see it coming? These were the people I trusted? You hate they’re still there, the people, the places, the times you had, the things that led up to them. Your demons focus on these, they know you relate to more of an abandoned building than a person. From the outside you seem sturdy, standing to the tests of time. On the contrary, your demons are already inside, they understand how to gambit during the night to impact your day as well. Setting things up to happen in a series of moves that coincide when with you’re alone, true chess players. Maneuvering with ease amongst your memories and deepest thoughts, they’ve been there since you were born, they’re home. Really that is the worst part, you eat at yourself yet you’ve had them with you since childhood. Since that first regret, when you got that first scolding and never let go of the grudge. You don’t consciously remember them happening, but they were there, working in the backdrop of your life. They saw how it would play out and they position their pieces to decimate you when you lead life blindly into their next trap. For they see all and you see little, you are looking out the peephole while they’re standing on the roof. If you give in one day you’ll join them up there, but you won’t be there for the view. There’d be a beauty about free fall, you know death is imminent no matter what you do. No amount of eating kale and working out can you save you now, there’s a comfort in that. Your demons would jump with you, a predator is nothing without prey. At least they join you, not by choice, they knew this day was coming. They laugh and spin around you, as unsettling as it would be; life does flash before your eyes. You’ve heard how time slows down, currently it feels cement mix. You see the structure that aided you in your final conquest, it provided the height while you gave the trajectory. You watch the windows go by, you’ve worked within the same block as hundreds of these people, simply floors higher. Few see you, none move fast enough to check out the windows and watch. The ones walking towards you, you don’t see it but as their brain processes what happens; they drop papers, quit pushing carts, spill drinks. Some are already at the window, they watch as you go by, they all react the same in the end. “Oh it was a tragedy, no one had any idea.” You saw it coming, not directly, you didn’t quite take the elevator to the roof, but you knew you were lucky to work in the higher part. Every step up the stairs was simply another nail in the coffin, the demons were playing, sliding down the safety rails, chanting sing-song like about how you were already vertically inclined enough that the stairwell would work. Nobody takes the stairwell from the bottom floor, how long would it take till they found you? It’d be entertaining to see their faces, how far would the blood splatter in here? Would it splatter paint the door? The people in the bottom part didn’t even know you existed, let alone what you looked like before you were unpleasantly mashed to a bloody pulp. You wanted recognition, you wanted the people watching you hit terminal velocity. You wouldn’t scream on the way down you tell yourself, there’d be enough screaming as is. All this is in your mind as you continue inclining, you’re tired by the top and you chuckle to yourself as you remind your body you’re about to experience eternal sleep. More thoughts come to mind, it’d be sweet to relive your life, knowing what would happen, you could make changes where you need or want. You understand it’s too late to change now, there’s rent to pay, jobs to complete, Facebook friends to keep you mildly entertained. Thinking about what led you here, you did good in high school, never truly excelling but ahead of most. You went through college, made friends, passed classes, and earned your Bachelor's. After a couple of jobs throughout college and some after, you found yourself at this building, the true highest part of your life. Everything led up to this building and this career, nothing was open to different judgement. Was this all really what it seemed to be at the time? Was this job really worth the commitment? Is being just another person really worth living through the pain of life?