The Pursuit of Loneliness
a short story
There is a buzzing- a BUZZ BUZZ iiiiiiING!!- fuzzy and ringing, muffled yet sharp- an under-the-ear-drum-itch- frustrating, infuriating BUZZING…coming from the people in this room. They cannot hear it, in a sense, for them, it does not exist- except so far as it exists for them as an invention of mine. I invent many things.
There is a hot and cold bubble boiling and freezing in the pit in my mind that drains the pit in my stomach. There is a Black Fog enclosing my brain- it is a fog of hate to imprison me in a hatred I will create, whelp, nurture, expose and digest. It is a process I have invented.
The Black Fog comes and goes with the tides of people who lap at the shores of my perception. Some bring ill-wind, some bring fair wind- it matters not to me or the fog; it travels at random on temporal seas.
It seems random to me…but then time follows no laws; it is an invention of man, which he imposes, unfairly, on reality.
Everyone agrees- the invention becomes real.
My inventions are my inventions and very few people exhibit very little interest in them.
Suffice to say I find it infuriating to know that of all the infinite universes in which people could choose to live, many choose to inhabit the same few! (; making them much cluttered, dull universes). Where I can, without hurting others, (as I perceive it) I like to live in my universe of my invention. When I can’t, I flounder on the shores of everybody else’s perception.
There is a buzzing and a boiling and a black, encompassing fog and there are so many noisy universes, all in one room, which I cannot bear. Somehow those blessed words make their way through to me-
‘And that’s it for this lecture; see you, next Tuesday’.
And I think- Bring it to Charlie’s House. But I don’t say it, because no one else will get it.
And I run; up the stairs; out the door; down the stairs; out the door; freedom.
Loneliness…
That sweetest of sorrows- the sky is a beautiful shade of gray- the most fleeting of feelings- a single drop of rain- LONELINESS- that I long for!- loneliness– that I need!
I walk. I walk fast- faster than anyone else; away from anyone else. I force an absent minded expression onto my moody, desolate expression. I force my instincts to recede and train my countenance to obey me this once and be that mask of deceit which comes- unfairly – easily to lesser mortals.
I try to look like I haven’t a care in the world because if anyone asks me if I do have a care in the world I shall explode, I shall burst forth with such vitriolic determination that the very world of which they ask me shall feel scathed.
And if she be a thing, let her feel so! She is, like any woman, multi-facetted and deceitful.
*
I reach my sanctuary; the Writer’s Paradise; place of peace; where scholars and the great creative minds (I do not draw a distinction per se) join to sit, alone, in quiet to work; work in its most physical and spiritual manifestation: thought. My sanctuary…
The woman at the desk looks at me and I hate her; the old couple stand BLOCKING! The doorway and I HATE them; the children giggle at computers in corners and I hate them and I hate hate hate their parents and I hate this place and I’ll never get a moments peace as women browse and natter through aisles lined with ‘inspiring’ (!) novels about abuse and neglect and other ‘inspiring’ (!) themes and men peruse literature beyond far far beyond their capacity for understanding Dickens and Carroll and Wilde they couldn’t possibly understand those people if they were alive today so how dare (!!) they touch those leaves and students giving themselves kudos and pats on the back and other such shit just for finding (!) the books from their reading lists and I want them to go ALL GO AWAY NOW NOW NOW and I RUN FLEE ESCAPE THIS PLACE
No sanctuary now.
So I walk, past coffee houses blaring pop and restaurants blaring pop and churches full of kids and pubs full of kids and bus stops inhabited by homeless and alleys ditto ditto ditto – GOD! F.U.C.K, where is my place of peace; where is my sanctuary!?
Gone; the world is gone from me, gone gone gone, no peace, no quiet, just hustle and bustle and rudeness everywhere…no respect.
Suddenly I feel afraid; I have gone too far! I will miss the start of my next seminar! I will have to arrive late and walk in ALONE and eyes EYES will stare and they will THINK such horrible (horrible!) things and I will choose WRONG and my friends will hate me and my enemies will laugh and I will suffocate in black, the Black Fog…
I walk quick-time double pace back back back, fast, onto campus, past halls, down the hall, upstairs, through door- alone.
No one is here; classroom empty.
This is wrong- the class was definitely in here so why (why!) why-the-fuck is it empty?
…
This makes no sense!
PANIC
Makes no sense
PAN…
…calm down.
Think rationally.
Call a friend; my best friend in the whole university. Times are hard, but they’ve been hard before; friends- friend- THIS friend has always seen my through.
Call.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
R-what-the-fuck-why-can’t-anyone-in-this-fucking-world-answer-a-fu-
“Hello! Hi, yes, sorry, sorry to call, I’m such a fool, I’ve gone to, well I must be in the wrong class, no one’s here, and-
What?
Go home early?
Could have told…
I ran here!
Not around?
You have a phone you stupid cunt! What kind of fucking friends are you making me look like a fucking tit you can just drive back and get me you just left me here to make a fucking fucking fool of myself why the FUCK do I even bother with useless FUCKING friends like you you worthless fucking waste of space cun…”
…hello?
Cheal Out 