My Loneliness Ain’t Killing Me
Last night, I was sad.
I had been having a lonely day.
No, not a lonely day. A lonely few hours.
I wasn’t feeling well and I didn’t know what to do so I texted my mother. She was asking me about my symptoms, but it just wasn’t the same as having her put her hand on my forehead to check my temperature and offering to make me soup. In fact, I really wanted soup but was in too much pain to get up and make it myself.
It was a lonely feeling. Not having anyone here to bring me soup. Having no one to hold me while I lay in the fetal position. No one to stroke my hair and reassure me that my intestines weren’t twisted and my kidneys weren’t failing. You know, the normal stuff you do for your girlfriend when she’s is sick.
I don’t feel like this too often anymore, this feeling like something’s missing. This longing for a relationship. I know that this is because of my recent setback on the battlefield.
So, I let myself feel it. If you don’t give in to the sadness sometimes – let it out, recognize it and let it go – it will build up. Then when you DO give in, it will be too late and it will consume you. Or at least, that’s how I am. So I gave in. I was letting myself feel sad. I moped into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of Ramen, since the crippling pain in my stomach had been replaced with an aching emptiness. I turned on the television to fill the deafening silence of my empty apartment and started flipping through the ‘guide’ to see what was on. Before long I found exactly what I wanted to be watching – Les Misérables, the 25th anniversary concert. I had only seen this concert version recently, and I was happy to get the chance to re-watch it.
Just as I was starting to silently thank the universe, Cosette started singing and I realized that we were at my favorite part in the musical. As I started to join in with Eponine’s verse, my voice caught in my throat. I was overwhelmed with excitement over my fortuitousness, the similarity between my loneliness and the ingénue’s longing not lost on me. So though it was not a cheerful song, it was not something to distract me from my pain, it was still something that brought me comfort. The familiar tragic beauty of the notes didn’t necessarily take away the sadness, but it took away the loneliness.
Music is kind of magical like that.