A Tale Of Loneliness

Recently while looking over some old stuff I’d put up on One-Drive, or skydrive as it was known then. I came across a wee bit of prose I wrote, I pondered and thought to myself, “self, you were surely alone back then” to put it mildly. But after assessing how I feel today, I’m wondering was it then or is it now? Was it myself telling me just how lonely I was/am? Was it fate that I stumbled across it? or am I once again as people say, over analysing; you be the judge…

In 2012 I wrote late one night after an “encounter”.

So I thought I was drinking alone tonight and then I realised looking across my kitchen table I was not, to my left I had Ms Computer Bag (nee Computer Case) and her wife Ms Hand-Bag. To my right I had, my good friends Mr. T-Shirt and Mrs T-Towel. And at the far end of the table I had, would you believe, Mr. Nobody, because the others were all couples, myself and nobody spent the night talking..

Now since I wrote this I’ve all but stopped drinking, dabbled with marijuana for a bit, because as we all know drink is just another form of depressant. But the pot is just another form of escape. But how does one escape themselves?

Recently after a spat of bad luck with my health, a few op’s etc, I’ve started to look at my life, Am I still that depressed, lonely man? How does one tell if one is truly depressed and lonely. Is it because others tell you that you are? or is it because you feel down? Is loneliness truly measurable?