Days like this remind me that all I'm alone.
I can't complain much about my life.
I sleep until noon or later,
I have a clean and cozy bed,
good dinners worth preparing,
scented laundry and the internet.
Smartphone. Great books.
So up I go, around noon or one,
I check my phone for missed calls and messages,
make my way to the kitchen for breakfast.
Power on the computer,
turn on some music.
Email. Social networks.
News. E-zines and articles of interest.
Enough of that.
Time for a film.
Or two.
I like the classics:
"It Happened One Night",
I've seen it so many times.
Or it'll be "The Twilight Zone", original series
until I fall asleep for a nap.
Then it's up again for lunch.
(A sandwich before dinner, really.)
I'll pull out a book from the shelf,
sit and read whilst nibbling away
at my sad little sandwich,
and usually continue on with it
into the kitchen as I start preparing dinner.
I'll read as water boils,
stirring pasta or baking chicken.
Mostly frozen pizza.
Dinner time. Twilight Zone strikes again.
A continuation with my book after I eat.
Wash up after dinner.
Take a shower.
Pajamas.
Book in bed.
Toss and turn.
Regret the past.
Up to write.
Grab a sandwich.
Listen to Roy Orbison.
Get back into bed.
That's when my loneliness hits me.
That's when I realize it:
I have not heard my own voice all day or night.
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