Alone, without you

I feel alone. I know I’m not – my cat is in the hallway, the dogs are somewhere nearby and my mum’s sleeping upstairs – but I still feel it. I’ve been up all night, my head searching for answers long after I decided to pull the plug and try for restful sleep. I’m still waiting for it to give up and get the idea that there really aren’t any. No answers, I mean. No sense. I’m a logical girl (as much as someone prone to hallucinations and such things can claim to be) and it irks me that I can’t work it out. It’s a bit like that gameshow host from the 80s you can just almost remember (when it comes into some random conversation) but still continues to evade your best efforts. The harder you try to force the thought the further it slips out of reach. Near enough to taunt you and stick out its tongue in a childish fashion, but far enough to slip from your mind’s grasp ensuring you never get to giving it a trusty butt-kick for being so rude. It’s always the way that the naughty gameshow host will return to you, perhaps at work (or at 3am) when you least expect it. It’s always the way. Will the answers I am searching for be the same?

Assuming they exist.

So, until glorious inspiration decides to favor me with a second glance I guess it’s just me.

Alone

Without you

Why did you leave?

Where are you now? Are you safe?

How much did you suffer and why didn’t you call?

Just a word and I’d have been there.

You knew that.

Didn’t you?

Alone.

Rachel Studley ©2002