Midnight

Somehow I know I’m not leaving so easily tonight. I am like a rose with an ashen center. I am thinking thoughts suited for this midnight, and I am awfully alone in this packed club. The people move against the light, the lights move against the people, and I can see all of the truth surrounding the silhouettes. My spirit is probably colder than the blue night outside. It may have sheltered happiness at one time, but ultimately I know that there is little left after decaying for so long. I never found love, I never had passion, and I never had care. My soul is crashing down among all of these red lights tonight, and I had no idea that I was free-falling. In a breath, I take in the musk of marijuana. My mouth is still soured and wet from the alcohol. My stomach aches, my nose is burning without end, and I feel that I’ve either given it all up or that hope has nothing left for me. I look at them all, their souls careless and satisfied; the people moving and soaking up the red flashes. I am watching in awe so that I can drown out God, and in that moment I know I’m addicted. I won’t find out why, but even amid the sin and the sickness I am wholly content. I am here in my selfishness, barely listening to anything, and the denial of all else is somehow still beautiful. My demons are all here in this smoky place tonight, and soon I know I’ll be crumbling again.

So for now, I cradle my fear in doubt. Without knowing it, I am rising from this dusty sofa, walking by the dimly lit bar lined with all the lost souls, and stumbling out the back door. It’s all happening so slowly. Outside, it is still dark amidst the numbing drizzle. I know I will be sleeping alone tonight, if I can find my way back. I am going under, the danger closing around me at the edge of the sidewalk and the back alley. I know I probably won’t reach the empty street ahead. The only street light in Old Town is spreading gold onto the corner close by, burning, burning bright. If ever I was on the brink, I thought I would be more ready for the adventure and I thought I would feel my heart beating. Instead, I want to collapse with exhaustion, with shame all around my eyes. And yet, for tonight, I know I’ll be alright. My sins are going to be the death of me tomorrow, but tonight I will rest on this broken asphalt under that soft light, unsure of the morning, but for once, unafraid.

The Mystery of Learning From Loneliness

BritishKid16,

I read this many times to let it soak in.

You are truly blossoming as a writer. It is amazing what depth and energy are in your beautiful poetic prose.

You painted a lonely heart's club. I know the feeling of being lost in the crowd and loving it and hating it at the same time.

In our efforts to be connected, we sometimes lose sight of what makes us the happiest. I reflected on this writing for several hours and felt the inner struggle and the epiphany of your story.

Some may call loneliness a stigma; it leaves the heart digesting the unsavory and begging for the light. Loneliness is part of being human ... even in a smoke filled bar with all the music, laughter, and noise.

We become what we learn from our loneliness. We have to wrestle with the asphalt to find the ground beneath us.

I was a theatre person as a young adult, went to a lot of parties, and never felt the urge to be like so many of my friends caught in the drinking and drug scene. I didn't like what they did, but I went ... I was amused by their colorful characterizations. Yes, I felt very different and yet the same.

I used to be pretty shy ... even though I am an extrovert. As I have grown older, I am less shy, and still an extrovert ... so to speak. I am most like the theatre crowd, I need creative ideas to thrive.

I love your writing. It is truly turning pages and becoming very powerful.

Sleep tight on the asphalt. Your dreams are still there and you will live them in your living and in your writing.

Loneliness is not a state of mind ... it is a state of learning to be. Thanks for giving me something to think about this rainy day in Dallas.

Midnight ... changing times.

Love,

Kathy :o)

Dallas, Texas

Lonely

Kathy,

Thank you for reading!

I am always taken back by this imagery of lonliness and beauty in the sin. I would rather think that there is a particular beauty in just about everything around us. God is watchful over all.

It's funny, but I actually yearn for experiences like the one i've written about. I've touched a few of these elements of sin before, and I drew away in sharp distaste. But for the sake of good art, everything is wonderfully necessary.
Still, I have observed God's protection to be like the 'only street light in Old Town'. His grace pours into gold, and gold pours onto the midnight corridors.

I love that you love my writing!
you are a blessing.

BK16

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