Weekend used to be something that I really looked forward to. I mean, it’s the part of the week that I have full authority. What’s there not to like? From the absence of obligation to wake up at certain times, not having to deal with the responsibility of working or studying, to being able to just go out for a full day until I’m spent or simply locking myself up and recharging by having no real life human interaction. It was the highlight of my week.
Because this past year rain parade on what used to be my source of peace. Turning tranquillity into oppressive silence and solitary into loneliness. Grinding the gears in my brain and agitate my restless heart.
And I suppose, I have nothing to blame but my own decisions.
The decision to tear down my own walls and let people in on what used to be my sanctuary, allowing them access to my private moments and adapting to their presence. It was my own decision that leads to me discovering the pleasure of sharing silent companionship, the comfort of knowing that there’s somebody else in the room so that loneliness will only be a distant memory.
It’s kind of hard to be content with coming home to a dark room and waking up to the silence of an empty room when you’ve tasted the opposite, no?
So for a couple of months, I’ve run away from my own room. Arranging non stop activities and assuring that I wouldn’t ever have to be alone in my place during weekends – except to sleep.
In a way, I was running from loneliness.
But I’ve stopped running. It took a lot, but I’ve stopped and I started to make peace with being alone again. To get reacquainted with myself and taking back my autonomy over those private moments. To finally be content again.
Still there are times like now, when weekend is not a chance to recharge but just something that sap my energy. When it is so hard just to fall asleep, when my mind goes into overdrive and I find my self-catering staring blankly into the dark night of my own room, wondering how the hell did I get to this point.
Maybe it’s just that time of the year, or a series of unfortunate coincidences. But lately I’m just so tired of everything,so uncomfortable in my own skin and so suffocated by this…. emptiness.
Seems like I still got quite a long way to go until I could be fully comfortable with solitude again.
À la mort,
What it boils down to, I suppose, is that I just miss having someone to be alone together with. Someone to hold when the walls are closing in or to talk to when the silence got too much.
Or maybe I just need to get back together with peace and quiet.