“Stay Away From Lonely Places”
But what about when those lonely places reside in yourself? How do you avoid THAT? It’s not as if you can escape from.. you. Right? I mean, I’ve tried. And all I’ve learnt is that you’ve gotta come back, eventually.
But you know what? Life doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom – just don’t sit idle. Immerse yourself in a new hobby; be pro-active with seeing people that make you smile and laugh (you don’t need to spend lots of money to have fun, either); read more; watch TV, films every now and then. Go for walks and keep active. You’re only ever as lonely as you allow yourself to be. So unless you’re deliberately trying to drown in self-pity (it’s good for your soul sometimes, just not when it becomes excessive) you should keep moving!
When you keep yourself busy, you won’t have to think about keeping yourself busy. And hey, if none of that works.. you can always speak to the people at CALM, via thecalmzone.net. They are incredibly important, and have an extremely informative website – and I bet you’ll be surprised at the amount of people in your life that will need it at some point.
You and I.
I always put your name before mine, from the first moment to the last.
We sit at the same table, order the same drinks,
and watch commuters pass by through the window we sit besides.
We’re looking at everything but each other.
My words never speak, because they don’t touch your heart anymore.
Your rib cage protects you, when it used to let you absorb my voice.
Your eyes that beamed affection for a glimmer of artistry,
now stare blankly at empty canvases.
My words don’t converse anymore, because they’re alone.
Though you’re still here – your lips don’t react as quickly as they did.
They don’t kiss the air every time you exhale between sentences,
instead they cut through silence like a blade through veils of a distant, memory.
Your loose curls stopped falling effortlessly down to your shoulders.
The colourfully sun-kissed face that was impossible to ignore,
seems a pale white, as if you’re no longer here.
It forms an even greater contrast between the darkness of your hair,
which you seem to prefer tying up, now.
You glaze over my attempts to reconnect, because honestly it’s tiring.
The spark that started this journey seems to be struggling over this final mile.
This is the final mile, right?
I’m always hoping you’ll say no, and that we’ll keep going.
But your silence is all the confirmation I need.
My words don’t have the weight they used to. I guess you got used to that.
I guess I’ll never get used to that.
So here we are, the same place we’ve always been,
but this scene is starkly different.
Perhaps I’ll stop writing these songs for women.