On: Looking Forward to the Fourth
This article is best enjoyed whilst listening to the song "The Wisp Sings" by Winter Aid - https://youtu.be/_A0Beo0M-tQ
It's been three weeks of no electricity in the Estate I stay in. If you recall, I mentioned in my last newsletter that our transformer was engulfed in an inferno. This means for the past three weeks, I have had to run a generator to get anything close to a sense of steady power supply. And I normally am one to pick lessons from the most mundane things like, say, not having any power supply for three weeks. But if I am being honest, I haven't been able to this time around.
Truth is, for the past three weeks I have never felt a deeper sense of loneliness. Turns out that with electricity there was always something to do to keep me from feeling the prongs of loneliness. I could easily go to my kitchen and cook because I had frozen food in the freezer. I could easily drown my thoughts in movies on my laptop cause I was not worried about preserving the battery since I knew even if it died, I'd be sure of the power supply to charge it up.
Now, it's not that I still can't charge my laptop battery with a generator but unlike actual electricity, where I never worried so much about the cost of fuel, running a generator, I always have that at the back of my mind. It's like for every humming noise of my generator, I literally hear my expenses soar in the terrible heat of the day. And it is in these moments I feel it –that loneliness.
It's the fact that in these moments I realize how much my life is a compilation of bland routines that never really offer any value besides helping me bide the time. And it's sadder when I realize I'm only bidding the time to bid the time until time, for me, exists no more. I know I should have friends who I can talk to but I realize how most of those I consider dear friends have so much on their plate that my grapples with loneliness on a hot Thursday afternoon would compound rather than alleviate their already overburdened worries. I, as a friend, would hope to be more an alleviator than a compounded and if I can't be either, I choose silence.
And silent I stay, locked away in my own little corner of the world. In what ideally should be my own safe haven but continually feels like a prison of despair. I'd cry if I felt it helped but I know it doesn't. I'd scream if my voice could break down the bars but I know they hold no such seismic powers. So, I do what I've always done. I suffer in silence. Biblically bearing my cross of despair and hoping that like the famous Galilean, I have enough strength to get to that hill at Calvary. I smile occasionally at the little jokes on the internet. But then return back to the emptiness of forlorn chats and abandoned memories. I see how much my reality is affixed to nothingness and yet I am unable to move away from this despair. Too afraid because I have no idea what the other side of it looks like.
I once had a moment of joy a few days back. A lady I admired [read: fell in love with] sent me a text and we got talking. I made jokes and for the brevity of our interactions, I lost sight of the pain –the loneliness. And then it ended. Abruptly as it had been initiated. And as much as I knew this was to come, the hope that had been kindled in my heart by that little moment of bliss made the reality of my situation ever so painful. In my writhing pain, I am reminded of the famous words of Peyton Sawyer from the TV series "One tree hill": People always leave; and I realize maybe there was meant to be an addition to that phrase that says, "...but the pain remains."
Indeed, I know how this may read to you: a stranger whose only crime at this moment had been to have chosen to subscribe to this writer’s newsletter. I know how much of this is information you would rather not be bothered with because you too have to face the dreariness of your own existence. And sincerely, I apologize for making you read through this rant of pain by a man who has chosen not to want to seek the optimism in all of this blandness. You are not supposed to be burdened with my angst and loneliness as much as I could hardly even help with yours. And subjecting you to this torture is a sign of just how much we often prefer to share our pain with strangers, not necessarily for solace but sinisterly, in the hopes that we are able to pass a little of the burden to them: people we never truly know; faces we may never see.
And I know how wrong it is to burden you with my tales of despair and I hope you forgive me, eventually. However, the truth is that I haven't written this just so you could, maybe, feel sorry for me and wish me strength and all that biblical goodwill we are so wont of bestowing on those who suffer, rather I have written this to simply inform you of this: it's been three weeks of no electricity in the Estate I stay in and if it ever happens that the electricity is restored soon and you never get any one of these dull "ode of despair" in your mailbox again, then be sure to know that I still suffer in silence, only this time, with the electricity restored, I can easily go to my kitchen and cook because I will have frozen foods in my freezer; and I would be able to not worry about charging my laptop or never have to consider every noisy hum of the generator as a sign that my expenses are soaring.
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It has been three weeks of no electricity in the Estate I stay in. I look forward to surviving the fourth.
I like the fact that a lady is always mentioned in your write ups! Ladies Man Mifa!! I'm sorry there's no power supply in your area! I really enjoyed reading this! Thank you