Feel bad for me!

December twenty-third. Christmas minus one. I walk around the city as daylight vanishes. Queues of masked people, outside most stores, waiting to prolong their consumerist streak. I smile to myself. “I’m lucky am not one of them,” I think. But as I walk and get closer to home, a deep sorrow starts blooming within. It’s my holidays’ blues. The realization of my profound and utter loneliness. Maybe I’m safe from that capitalist madness, but I wouldn’t mind all that much to submerge myself in it, if it meant not sitting now at my table, alone. A can of beer just cracked open and half empty as I type these lines at 16:32 PM.
“If you could do it all again”
I cried, once more. The second I got through the door, tears started streaming down my face. I took off my jacket and threw it on the sofa, and let myself slowly fall down onto the floor, my whole body weakened by sadness. I sat down, my back against the entrance door, quietly sobbing, drooling and snotting on the wooden floor of my fancy apartment in Frederiksberg. I’m overly sensitive nowadays. Time, breakups and isolation have done nothing to harden my skin. And all I could think about was how was I going to portray that moment in words. “I’m sitting here alone, sobbing, against the same door at which I kissed and fucked my ex C, so many times in the past. (Perhaps that line is too compromising, so I’ll rephrase it in the final draft. Or I won’t and will excuse myself with the lack of self-respect that the abominable weight of aloneness has imposed on me.)” All this while Thom Yorke’s “Dawn Chorus” was incessantly blasting in my earphones.
“If you could do it all again”
I met someone, soon after my -supposedly, final- breakup with C, back in February. There’s a lot to this story to poorly summarize it in a couple of uninspired paragraphs. Just mentioned it because I checked my phone now and searched for my last message to her on Whatsapp. I let out a sad smile, as I read it. Life would be so different had she responded. And the song ends, the second time I play it to get in the mood to write.
“If you could do it all again
This time with style”
I’ve lived and left so many lives that could have been. Just to end up drinking a Royal Økologisk beer on my own, at 16:48 PM on December 23rd, 2020. Getting ready to meet Santa face to face tomorrow night; both of us the loneliest men on Earth. He, with a mission. Me? Hopefully drunk on a better beer.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *