I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don’t know where it goes
But it’s home to me and I walk alone..
sometimes, while walking down the road at 6 in the evening, you suddenly find the world moving into a different plane; leaving you right there. the world swirls, the roads mingle, but you keep walking. sipping the ubiquitous cup of coffee that you’ve paid for at the local coffee shop – the person behind the counter giving the same fake smile she gives everyone else. the two words of conversation they have with every other person had been exchanged, and they were looking beyond you; virtually through you.. to the person next in line.
even as the mouthful of coffee swirls itself around your mouth, you start ruminating that you are walking alone, you are the isolated one, you are the person who is sitting in the corner of the library; solitary in the books that surround you, you remained silent yesterday when everyone went back to their rooms after the meet; and made your way back to the one place on the planet that all your worldly belongings are stored. you would like to call it ‘home’, but that would be an insult to the golden-hued potrait of ‘back home’. this is the choice you made, this is the life you chose. you cannot complain, you cannot cry out and hope someone will hear. no-one ever really hears you, you could scream right now, right here.. and in all probability the world around you would barely pause to look at the person screaming out.
I’m walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone.
you stop. you listen. you wait. you keep listening.. for the voice that never comes. you take out your cell phone for the fifth time since you walked out here, to check if you’ve missed a call. nope. the wind bears down upon you, and you huddle in your coat; as your hair is blown back. people all around you hurry towards shelter, towards destinations they want to be at… you walk slower (if that is possible); you don’t want to go back. there is nowhere else to go, you bow your head deeper, and keep walking. you might as well, anything is better than aimlessly walking against the blustering day.
you walk into the building, the cellphone finally rings, you cut the call. it is too late. you come back to your chair, and start typing. you write, you formulate, you edit, you rewrite.. you try to capture the very angst that formulated the need to write.. the coffee grows cold. you finish, you drink, and grimace – cold coffee that was once warm has a worse kick than neat whisky. you lick your lips all the same, the remnants of sugar have a distinctive aftertaste. what is written is read, a deep sigh is emitted.. the pointlessness is realised.
someone actually understanding is barely a possibility. being alone in the middle of a crowd is far worse than being isolated.
My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
‘Til then I walk alone…