Dear Josh,
In the previous post, I wrote about how I’m no longer afraid of ghosts thanks to you. I’ve got another fear though, the quiet. On the first night of my stay in London, after everyone retired to their rooms for the night, I felt the heavy presence of silence. You’d point out that that’s an oxymoron, haha. I was alone and the silence was actually deafening. Another oxymoron; I’m giving you so many chances to make jokes here! It was like I was suddenly made aware of the fact that I am alone.
And I don’t mind being alone; I quite enjoy my own company and self-care time, but for some reason I was suddenly hyperaware of the nothingness around me, of how if I wanted to speak there’d be no one to listen. I was so alone and worse, lonely.
It scared me to think about the future. Would I be this lonely? Coming home from work every single day for decades to this deafening silence? The house will be quiet except for the noises I make. I’ll understand why people turn their TVs on without watching them. I had to play music to fill the space and eventually used music to put myself to sleep. In that moment, of absolute silence, I both wanted to cry and didn’t want to. It seemed like crying would have made it all too real – an admission, a confirmation, that I was indeed alone.
I know, it’s stupid. I wasn’t homesick or anything, but I really wanted to have someone or something. Some being to make me feel like I’m not the only person in the world because that’s such a scary feeling. I comforted myself by thinking I could get a dog in the future. Someone to love and someone to love me. A dog sounds nice, right? But I wondered if I’d eventually feel lonely from the lack of intellectual conversations. I wondered if I was meant to be lonely and alone. Isn’t that sad? We always want what we can’t have and what if that’s why I feel lonely, because I’m meant to be alone?
On the second night of my stay, I decided to keep the window slightly open. Part of it was for the breeze – there’s no AC and I kept waking up from the heat. The other reason is for the noise. I can hear people talking and laughing, music playing, sounds from traffic, and the soft whooshes of the wind. There was life outside of my room. Made me feel less alone.
Can’t wait to see you again. Oh, I have noticed that it’s easier than ever to imagine you in my hotel room – sitting at the edge of the bed, squatting beside me as I rearrange my suitcase for the fifth time today, watching me plan my outfit for tomorrow… Thank you for keeping me company! I love you more, always, and forever.
Love always,
Sha
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