Not Alone in My Loneliness

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I let out an involuntary sigh. My countless heartaches and worries were piling up, no longer able to fit in the confines of my chest. My lungs were now busy carrying the weight of my worries instead of circulating the oxygen my body so direly needed. I could not breathe. 

* * *

Freeing myself from the four walls around me, I jolted for the door and burst outside. I began running with no destination in mind. I went wherever the winding paths took me. When there were no paths, I followed the wind. There was only one idea in my head: run until you find a remedy. Although, remedy was a strong word for what I was hoping to find. I was merely looking to survive. Then, I came to an abrupt stop and found myself in front of the woods. 

I was gulping for air after my sudden instinctual run towards the unknown. Without thinking much, I immediately sat on a weathered-down tree stump that looked as though it could break at any moment. Bent double, trying to catch my breath, I kept my elbows on my knees to prevent myself from falling. I saw my breath rise slowly in the cold air, blurring my vision with each exhale. 

I found myself at the intersection of the neighborhood and the woods, with the trees uninvitingly standing as a barrier, and the houses beckoning me back to a confining fate. In between these two worlds, the stump I was sitting on wasn’t very stable. With moss covering one side, and the other side riddled with little holes from some unknown critter that was no longer here, it was only by chance that the stump did not collapse. 

Shifting my attention to breathing, I focused on each set of exhales and inhales. With every attempt of my chest to expand and allow air to fill my lungs, the cold would contract my muscles, cramping and pulling back. It was at this moment that I let out that involuntary sigh, gasping for breath, screaming for help. It scared off a few birds from the trees above. Even they could not tolerate my presence. Only my breathing was interrupting the silence around me, yet I could not help but feel a presence other than my own.

I had lost track of time and only realized as I was sniffling in the cold that I must have been here for a few hours. The darkness of the night was encroaching upon my darkness, as the sun was slowly setting. Finally, the adrenaline from the run decreased and I was able to lift my head up and look towards the direction of the woods. In this motion, I saw a thin and tall man in a black suit, leaning against one of the bare trees. My eyes froze on him as they panned across the scene. I tensed up a bit. Standing across from me was a man who was not only familiar, but a man whom I’d known since my childhood. 

I couldn’t quite pinpoint when we had first met, or where he was from. It was as if I’d known him since the first time I opened my eyes to the world. Every moment my mother was not by my side, this man had been there. 

I had chiseled his features into my memory as I looked at him with my curious and wonder-filled childish eyes. His beard was always the same, neither long nor short, a shadow on his face. This shadow was complemented by the shadow cast by his hat. His black hat covered his hair, which was short enough to stay hidden, not revealing if it was curly or smooth. 

As for his eyes, they were quite pale. They may have been blue at some point, but now they were merely a faded or grayed color. He never really showed any extreme emotion, and had perfected the ability to keep his eyelids between open and closed. He kept his eyelids just open enough to be able to  see, not more and not less. He always looked tired. However, this is just his nature. He had a calm and quiet facial expression, never expressing the extremities of human emotion. His face was not much different than his eyes. Devoid of sunshine, his pale face was a continuation of the cold breeze pouring out of his eyes. 

Those eyes. The same eyes that peered at me over the edge of my crib had then followed me throughout my life. Even if I could not see him, he could see me. When I was in school, or out with friends and family, I would never see him around. He had a shy composure, eluding the crowds. Even though I spent so much time with him, I never really heard a sound come out of his mouth. He did not quite like interacting with people. I could further say that he detested it. 

One time, I saw him as I was walking down the street. It was as if people were walking through him, like he was not there. His shoulders slouching, and head looking down, he was walking directly towards some point. He walks quite fast, as if he was running away. Though, I never saw anything trailing him. Maybe he was running away from a fear that he fabricated for himself. Maybe it is for that reason that he does not speak.

The detail in which I knew him was a sure sign that he had been with me since childhood. Nevertheless, it was solely I that knew him. He was never with me when others were around me; he would always distance himself from me when I was around people. It is for this reason that I never saw him at my graduation or other ceremonies. Yet, I would still look out into the crowd. First, looking for my parents, and then looking for him. 

Even though I could never find him in a crowd, he would always be by my side at the toughest of times. With every adversity I faced, I would find him sitting across from me, ready to listen. I would run to him for consolation, no matter the issue. He was my refuge from the outside world. It is by virtue of him that I learned about myself, my inner world. I got to know myself and continue to do so. 

As I thought about these moments, I remained tensed up in the cold air on that rotting tree stump.

With his presence only a few feet away from me, I was already feeling a sense of relief. A relief that I imagined with each exhale as a way to finally unload my burden. With every exhale, I could release a worry and watch it dissipate. I was pouring my heart out into the cold air around me, and to him. 

Our eyes were locked from where I was sitting. We were on our own in front of the woods on this cold winter night. When he felt that I would embrace him, he started a slow and steady trudge in my direction. I was, in fact, waiting for him, whether I realized it or not. As he got closer, he slowed down. When he got to where I was sitting, he crouched down and looked at me with those faded eyes that may have once been blue. Then he pulled me towards his body with a strength unexpected from his feeble body. He gave me a hug so encompassing that it cut my ties to the world. His hug encircled my entire being. His black suit provided an added layer of darkness to the dark night. I felt as if I was transported somewhere else, to a place where I could breathe comfortably.

After our silent escape, he again stood across from me, crouched down to my level. Quietly, he reached to caress my shoulder in a motion of support. He had a soft expression on his face, yet still was not saying anything. It was just me looking at him, and him looking at me. It may seem odd, but it came so naturally to me at the moment. Spending time together and getting lost in the darkness did not carry any extraordinary value; it was ordinary. 

The cold breeze flowing out of his eyes took the rest of my worries with them. Now I could inhale and exhale without pain. I was finally getting the oxygen I needed. With a clear head after calming down, I felt a pull, urging me to go back. I could imagine the warmth of my home and the comfort of my bed. As I was thinking about a warm cup of tea, I felt a slight breeze brush up against my neck. I wanted to rush back to the comfort of those four walls. I was just getting ready to say goodbye when I saw that the man had disappeared. 

Without thinking much about it, I began walking back towards the houses in the neighborhood. As I walked through the neighborhood, I could see lights seeping through the windows and onto the streets. I saw one or two people at a time, living in their own worlds. Those coming back late from work were entering their homes. Silhouettes of families at dinner tables, eating and discussing, appeared through the curtains of other houses. In another window, I saw a student at his desk, working on some assignment that was taking longer than expected. An elderly gentleman was asleep on his couch across from the television. Everyone had their own unique experience. 

“I wonder where that man disappeared off to,” I thought, as I got closer to my home. I couldn’t keep myself from wondering. Even though we spent so much time together and had so many shared memories, I never knew how he disappeared or where he went. Then, I remembered his name, echoing in my ears. The only truth he left with me: his name was “Loneliness.”