“Should I call someone?” I think
“Who?”
I flick through the familiar list on the screen of my phone:
the usual names,
each given to their ways
of looking,
baked in their ways of being.
It is like switching channels on a TV
the astounding predictability
What to expect?
I shall play the talking game
to kill time
to exorcise the creeping loneliness
to communicate.
Communication is a big thing these days
The loneliness epidemic is being talked about
in newspapers and magazines:
that people are more isolated
than ever
Anxiety, depression, self harm.
But isn’t everybody on Instagram?
Aren’t reels, memes, and DMs doing anything for you?
Well.
Sometimes I think I just need to talk
to remember how I sound
and that words can be stitched to weave sentences
and express thoughts
and that it could be useful
to be functional someday, if needed.
I weigh the choice.
And I can’t do it.
I can’t perform the theatre.
So I call no one.
The quietness of night remains
unbroken.
And there is nothing, absolutely nothing more
that I want here.