The Lonely Ass Chronicles
It’s a special Thanksgiving. Quiet. Just me. No one’s knocking, no one’s calling. I sit here wondering how the years turned so fast. Once, I had a full table, a full house. High spirit, high carbs. Back then, I craved space and quiet. Now, my wife is gone. My son’s in college. I got the break I once wished for. But the silence — it feels so heavy.
Loneliness, though. It’s not the world shutting the door. It’s me losing the world to care about. Floating, Untethered. I’ve tried to fight it. Stepping out. Inviting people in. But sometimes the only thing worse than being alone is surrounding yourself with people who make you feel like you are. Forced smiles. Empty chatter. Hollow compliments. I leave those moments feeling like a ghost.
I tried to bury myself in stories. Other people’s stories. Books. Movies. Any life but my own. I push so close I can feel their breath, touch their skin, suffer their pain. But when the book closes, when the screen goes dark. I am still the only lonely ass. Staring at the quiet.
I tried to make others laugh. Feel cared for. Seen. They tell me I’m good at it. “You’re so sweet,” they say. “ You make us happy. You make us feel included.” But then, there is that voice. “It’s all ……fake..”
When it’s crowded, I try to disappear. When it’s empty, I try to make the connection. A pendulum. Swing back and forth. No stillness. Just motion.
Maybe peace isn’t out there. It’s not in the chatter of family, not in the silence of solitude. It’s inside. It’s me. I can’t find the middle ground. But I keep letting others decide my place. Family or friends. When they are here, I feel seen. When they’re not, I’m lonely.
But if I don’t learn to be okay with myself, who will?
Another Thanksgiving. Another lesson. Life’s good at teaching those.
