All Seasons of Loneliness

My boyfriend and I had been canvassing for days now in search of a good plane ticket and a respectable carrier. We had been to at least three different travel agencies and had more-or-less satisfactory results. He and his family are now in their final selection process and in all honesty, her mother even asked my opinion regarding what carrier and schedule is on my preference. Whatever her intentions may be, I had no idea whatsoever.

His family had been very good to me considering their strict Fil-Spanish custom and values which I had a hard time understanding and practicing. Since the start of our relationship, his mother had been very congenial and accepting of me. She prepared a fabulous lunch for me and her family on our first lunch date with Marco (my boyfriend), and ever since, their residence had been very welcoming of me (and all my misgivings).

When I spent some nights in their residence, Marco’s family had been very amiable and warm with me. I usually sleep in the guest’s room but I believe they knew (at the back of their minds) that midway through the night, I share a clandestine rendezvous with Marco. It is not of the flesh I am telling you. We just enjoy each other’s company to warm the night up.

I’d like to believe that I had willingly accepted their decision devoid of all the grudges and insecurities. Yet somehow I still feel a little lonely and selfish and insecure and needy. Is it because of the fact that I had wholeheartedly accepted it, yet I know that my heart tells me that it should not be this way? Or it is of the fear that in the end I will be the only one spending my nights alone?

In my past serious relationships, I usually drown myself with fears, pity and hopelessness every time each one of them fails. Beside my bed are vials of noxious medications, cassette tapes and CDs of Cher, Leanne Rimes, Keane and Brian McKnight telling me to move on and let go, and large servings of chocolate cakes telling me that I HAVE TO be HAPPY despite my loss. Yet somehow, I still feel emptier and emptier the more I continue my “be happy” routines. Is it because I had become immune to such monotonous hullabaloos? Or is it because my mind had been fed up of the usual panacea and it really is time to move on? Or probably, because no amount of bullshit can hide the fact that I am alone, desolate, barren, lonely and all fucked-up?

Sometimes, such things just cross my mind like some heavenly omens. The more I delude them, the more they haunt me. The more I feel restless and anxious. And all the time, a comforting presence of someone (a friend or boyfriend) can soothe the pain much efficient and prompt than Advil or Aspirin.

Perhaps it is because I’m afraid. And this fear is not abstract for it is very distinct and real. I know I had a very good support system and the presence of my loved ones obliterates my anxiety and fear, but would it suffice? What if I need the belongingness and intimacy of my boyfriend, can a good friend correspond a purpose? Can I feel the genuine human warmth from my staggering frenemies?

Cause in the end, we all fear of being ALONE. It is as real as the clouds on a gloomy winter morn. As genuine as roses blossoming on a spring field. As real as the sun, the moon, the stars, in the complexity of the universe of the human heart.

So real it overpowers us.

So real we drown in it.

So real we despise its presence but we know its there.


And as I listened to the music of loneliness and solitude, Leanne Rimes’s words reverberates in my brain…

Suddenly you're in this fight alone
Steppin' out into the great unknown
And the night's the hardest time
When the doubts run through your mind
Cause suddenly you find your self alone

Suddenly I found myself… alone.


P.S. Sometimes I hate telling myself that I will be fine for it will not be. It won’t. Only time can tell, I know. God I feel so alone.

I know only Jeff Buckley can understand me now. I believe we share the same mindset when he was singing his Hallelujah. It is really a cold and broken Hallelujah.