I can’t write about loneliness, because it’s a cliche to lament about darkness to other privileged people.
Let’s say I’m at a coffee kiosk. Let’s say I’m outside, removing my mask for just a second to sip a seven-dollar coffee and this woman walks up to get her order. She’s not chatty with anyone, just says hi and thanks and in one fluid movement grabs her coffee, turns to leave.
She has one of those forehead frown wrinkles and seems so comfortable like she owns this city, like we should form a line to shake her hand. I catch the subtle gleam of her engagement ring and the glint of her smooth leather loafers. Let’s say I shouldn’t smile but I do it anyway, and when she doesn’t smile back I am crushed.
Everyone is talking about Mental Health. My friend said, you gotta turn off the alerts on Citizen. Someone else said, just rent a wetsuit and go for a swim at Aquatic Park. Instead, I drank two margaritas and hid in the corner of the couch scrolling social media. On social I follow a Korean dad, lesbian goth parents, and a Black American vegan mom with a soft, soothing voice.
In America, feelings are treated as a cosecant, like only after two bottles of wine or in coastal cities like Los Angeles where its all Hollywood surf’s-up-dude airbrushed Americana bliss. Where religion is Hollywood and highways, self-actualization and A.I., Scientology and the Church of John Coltrane. Where nature’s ferocity is communicated through natural catastrophes of the most epic-slash-biblical kind.
Outrage feels more appropriate sometimes, and more socially acceptable than loneliness does. I type with my therapist through an app — she could be a bot for all I know. I also chat with a real A.I. programmed to use millennial-friendly language who is much more tactical, like hey I’m just trying to help you breathe normally over here.
I met my sports medicine doctor and physical therapist yesterday, the social event of the season. The doctor prefers to project her own stress into heated moments of explaining things.
At work, we use the word “feel” too much in our decision making processes. Someone actually had a mental breakdown last week. He didn’t sign in for almost two days and no one knew where he was. Since I’m becoming a robot, this won’t happen to me thank god.
I don’t miss socializing. Because I am not a young, white, male executive in Silicon Valley doing IMPORTANT WORK my primary role is to laugh loudly, say hmm, and sit patiently while you explain to us how apps are designed to be addictive in the first place.
A glance is thrown my way eventually for any signs of life, like hey you gotta contribute to the profundity happening over here. My catchphrases include “wow that’s amazing” and “hey, time will tell.”
Women I know say they are comfortable being alone in 2020 and I’m like I was born this way, baby. Someone else says, I want to introduce you to my ‘artsy’ friend.
Smile-and-nod is what my my mother always said — but pretending is not what I signed up for.
This mask I made is too heavy to wear. After I wear it, I need to nap for three days afterwards. I won’t be able to relish my aloneness then, and the cycle goes on to repeat itself.