David Anderson's Blog - Posts Tagged "lonely"
The Man Who Owned the World
What could possibly be more joyful and heart-warming than travelling with someone we love to an exotic destination? I’ll see you at the beach.
He folded the note, put it down and looked out of the window. Not a soul stirred in the empty world he'd inherited. Humanity’s ruination lay before him, stark and obvious.
Were those her own words or someone else’s? He’d no way to find out unless he scoured every book in every library on the off chance he’d eventually stumble upon them. He could do that: he had time enough at last. But what would be the point? They were poignant and meaningful regardless, secret words that filled him with useless regret.
Of all the books he could have picked up, why the one hiding her secret note? What had made him choose it from the many at his disposal? This volume had sat there untouched for years, until today.
When had she written these words, constructed this hidden message to him? He'd been doing okay until he discovered it – or as okay as one could be, bearing in mind the circumstances – dealing with the loneliness as best he could, the crushing melancholy.
A dire shadow had fallen over him upon finding this message and now he realised he missed her. Craved one of their infamous arguments, even. He found it amazing how you could learn to dislike someone so intensely in life yet miss them so desperately when they were gone.
Absence does funny things to memories, transforms irritation into fondness. With passing time the unsatisfactory moments acquire a lustre previously lacking, unremarkable moments begin to carry more importance, more heft and meaning. Sentimentality blossoms like a cancer that cannot be quelled. The bad memories, the harsh times, the tribulations, they dim until they are forgotten.
Perhaps, just perhaps, if he hadn’t pushed her away she wouldn’t have been there when it all happened. She could be here, with him, alive. He’d have her company, her warmth at night. He wouldn’t feel so alone. This dead world was his dominion now, but it wasn’t enough. A tiny spark is all that is needed to set away the insatiable blaze that is heartsickness. Her note had kindled an unstoppable, destructive force.
He had always marvelled over the incredible power of the human spirit. To know one’s time is short, but to have the resilience to carry on in spite of this, with the spectre of death continually lingering over one’s shoulder. For one’s existence to be so fleeting, so unimaginably fragile but to battle on anyway, against insurmountable odds. Her words had obliterated his resilience, broken his indomitable spirit in an instant.
He unfolded the note again, read it for the hundredth time, then looked back at the table, towards the pill bottle standing upon it. He went to the small brown container, picked it up, shook it and rattled the pills inside. He unscrewed the cap, tipped some onto his palm. He mulled over them briefly, but his delay was short, his mind already made up. He tossed the tablets into his mouth.
Yes, he thought, I'll see you at the beach.
He folded the note, put it down and looked out of the window. Not a soul stirred in the empty world he'd inherited. Humanity’s ruination lay before him, stark and obvious.
Were those her own words or someone else’s? He’d no way to find out unless he scoured every book in every library on the off chance he’d eventually stumble upon them. He could do that: he had time enough at last. But what would be the point? They were poignant and meaningful regardless, secret words that filled him with useless regret.
Of all the books he could have picked up, why the one hiding her secret note? What had made him choose it from the many at his disposal? This volume had sat there untouched for years, until today.
When had she written these words, constructed this hidden message to him? He'd been doing okay until he discovered it – or as okay as one could be, bearing in mind the circumstances – dealing with the loneliness as best he could, the crushing melancholy.
A dire shadow had fallen over him upon finding this message and now he realised he missed her. Craved one of their infamous arguments, even. He found it amazing how you could learn to dislike someone so intensely in life yet miss them so desperately when they were gone.
Absence does funny things to memories, transforms irritation into fondness. With passing time the unsatisfactory moments acquire a lustre previously lacking, unremarkable moments begin to carry more importance, more heft and meaning. Sentimentality blossoms like a cancer that cannot be quelled. The bad memories, the harsh times, the tribulations, they dim until they are forgotten.
Perhaps, just perhaps, if he hadn’t pushed her away she wouldn’t have been there when it all happened. She could be here, with him, alive. He’d have her company, her warmth at night. He wouldn’t feel so alone. This dead world was his dominion now, but it wasn’t enough. A tiny spark is all that is needed to set away the insatiable blaze that is heartsickness. Her note had kindled an unstoppable, destructive force.
He had always marvelled over the incredible power of the human spirit. To know one’s time is short, but to have the resilience to carry on in spite of this, with the spectre of death continually lingering over one’s shoulder. For one’s existence to be so fleeting, so unimaginably fragile but to battle on anyway, against insurmountable odds. Her words had obliterated his resilience, broken his indomitable spirit in an instant.
He unfolded the note again, read it for the hundredth time, then looked back at the table, towards the pill bottle standing upon it. He went to the small brown container, picked it up, shook it and rattled the pills inside. He unscrewed the cap, tipped some onto his palm. He mulled over them briefly, but his delay was short, his mind already made up. He tossed the tablets into his mouth.
Yes, he thought, I'll see you at the beach.
