There is something I have lost.
I have lost something.
Something is lost.
I am something and I am lost.
I don’t know what it is but I know its no longer here, there, or anywhere.
I’m simply stumbling through.
Half a person.
I feel alone.
Not just now when I’m in a room on my own but all the time. Even when there are other people, even when I’m a part of things, even when I’m laughing, even when I’m causing the laughter, even when I feel the warmth of your embrace, or his embrace, or her embrace.
There are no other people.
I’m not a part of things.
I can’t hear the laughter.
I don’t understand what is funny.
I can’t feel you, any of you.
A benign psychopath, I try to mimic the people who don’t feel this way, the people who feel something other than the awful dread I feel.
I feel grotesque and lonely.
I don’t belong here.
I’m a freak.
Making myself bleed just to feel something else.
I’ve lost control.
Then I heard it.
There had been other songs, songs I had tried to make fit my experience, songs I had tried to use to make sense of my half life, songs I had allowed to forge an identity for me.
This was different.
This time I felt something.
What was missing was found and put back in place.
I didn’t know who it was, all I knew was that it had crashed into my heart, found a place in what was left of my soul, caressed me with its poetry and its honesty and made me believe that there might just be a place for me.
I had found a bower, quiet for me in the midst of the Ginsberg howl of the voice and the roar of the band. Had heard the sound of a strange love. Felt the tender touch of another bruised, broken and battered soul.
Even now, so many years later, when I feel that something is missing, that there is no place for me, that I am alone and lonely in the crowd I think of this and know that I am not alone.