Drizzle coated everything in soft spray.
Beneath tall lamps, pavements shone.
Lit by amber reflections.
Removing his wet glasses changed the view to an impressionistic haze.
Which seemed more comforting than stark reality.
Pocketing his spectacles, he carried on without them.
The area was quiet.
Occasionally a bush would rake its branch tips over his jacket, if he came too close.
He thought about those already in bed, at this hour. Behind thousands of facades across the town.
Unknown minds, many possessed by dreams.
While he wandered around, unseen.
A restless, forlorn, spirit.
But, later, nearing the corner to his own street, excited chatter, laughter, and screams, revealed a cluster of young girls, hidden in shadows.
Amid large, overgrown hedges.
He crossed the road, rather than intrude upon their space.
“Look: there goes that queer!” Shouted a female voice.
“Yeah, that’s him,” came the response, “I hates him!”
“Hey you! She’s talkin’ to you!” Called another.
He kept walking.
What could be done?
This was the life he knew.
Friendless. Depressed. Abused. Alone.
Some unexplained stigma appeared to mark him a reject.
The 22-year-old virgin, who’d never been on a date.
Each new humiliation scratched an unhealed wound.
Feeling mired in shame, he fumbled for door keys.
The dark hallway retained a reassuring warmth.
Wearily he climbed, up creaking stairs, toward his room.
( Hi guys!
It’s deeply disappointing to me, after having failed to find love, how
easily haters are attracted.
Even now, though old and ill, I still draw hate.
Often without knowing why.
Starting blogging, I dreamed of becoming popular. For the first time…
Two years later, getting a single comment remains the highlight of my week.
Maybe you could leave one, and cheer me up?
Thank you for reading.)
(PS: Not so much morphing to poetry, from the prose, in this post.)
( anxiety / art / blog / blogging / depression / fiction / life / loneliness / mental health / poetry / photography / thoughts / writing )