different kinds of alone

i wrote a thing about different kinds of alone. it didn’t turn out as well as i had hoped. perhaps my loneliness has become cliche. maybe i just don’t fully and cannot fully understand the other kinds of alone outside of my own.

after writing this i was left with a huge question. when you consider the big, heart-shattering break-ups of your life, would you do those relationships all over again even if you couldn’t change a single thing, not even the outcome?

because i think of all mine, perhaps there’s one that i would do all over knowing that we would still end up apart. the rest, i wouldn’t do, they weren’t worth it.

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6 Comments

  1. Thomas 12.Jan.04 at 10:10 am

    Every heartbreak, every tear I shed, every night of asking whether or not I was capable of being loved and if I was meant to be alone; Yes. I’d do them all. After I met my wife, the person who I’ve known for nearly 11 years, a third of my life, I understood how absolutely I was, anyone was, of being loved.

    That’s probably why I come here; I see my own heart breaking every time you describe your own bouts with cardiac fracturing, I feel my old insecurities creeping up when you show us how vulnerable you feel and my own pangs of unfufilment echo when yours is sounding so loudly. I desperately want you to know that no one… NO ONE… is uncapable of being loved, cared for and remembered. I haven’t convinced you yet, but I’m trying, even at the risk of being “creepy”.

  2. Tam 12.Jan.04 at 11:01 am

    I’d do them all – even the ones that don’t appear to be worth it – because they all taught me something about human nature or myself no matter how insignificant.

    Although, if I went in knowing how it would end, I’d make sure I hurt them as much as they hurt me. But I’m just bitter and angry like that.

  3. jodi 12.Jan.04 at 11:29 am

    tam, that’s probably why i like you so much.

  4. andrea 12.Jan.04 at 5:15 pm

    i’d do it all again. i always believe that because i like myself, i have to accept my entire past… because without it, i wouldn’t be who i am. plus i am so damn happy right now with my life and my relationship and i know i never could have gotten here without those experiences.

  5. nick (dwnturn) 15.Jan.04 at 7:38 am

    i have never had a crushing break-up. I’ve never even had a serious relationship (which sucks in its own right). but i can imagine that reliving old experiences, no matter what they are can lend a new perspective as you undoubtedly were not aware of certain things that would come to your attention if you had knowledge of the ultimat outcome. so in that sense it would be worth it. I can say that i have witnessed my roomate being recently dumped by his girlfriend. I dont talk with him much about his personal life but i could tell he experienced a great deal of anxiety from the notion that she would leave him. this seemed to persist throughout the duration of the relationship and his actions influenced by this anxiety are what led to her dumping him as he was fairly jealous and untrusting. needless to say he is pretty insecure. however it seems the break-up was more a relief for him, this anxiety had been lifted off his shoulders. And they still see eachother, its as though nothing has changed.
    So this leads me to think that
    A. the label and the rules associated with that label have a deep impact on a lot of people
    and B. people who base their relationships according to the rules of a label rather than the specific needs and desires of the individuals involved are less likely to have fulfilling, healthy relationships.
    sorry if this was a little long winded.
    I hope it wasnt all hot air.

  6. Dante 06.Sep.04 at 7:48 am

    A wonderful 18 months together and she decided she wanted to travel alone for a while before returning. We had 18 months sharing a foreign land and experiences that bond both the heart and the soul.

    I returned to that foreign land, anticipating her return from her solo travels in another place. She met someone else, informed me by email, and now I’m stuck here, still struggling to find sleep most evenings and waking up most mornings in a good mood, until I reach out and she’s not there.

    6 months on, the pain has only gotten worse. There are no friends, or family here. I have to do this on my own and I haven’t genuinely smiled in all that time. I walk around with a smile on my face and inside, razor blades slice my body to pieces. She wants to be friends, and I love her too much to excise her from my life, but every email or photo from her, every visit to a place we had slept, eaten, shopped, visited together, reduces me to a quivering wreck. There is no anger, just a sense of hopelessness.

    On good days, I pray she will never have to go through what I am, and on bad days, I pray she will someday, have to live everything I’ve experienced. The pain, if anything, hasn’t eased. It’s grown worse. She is the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and my life wouldn’t have been as rich if not for her. But, if I was given a chance to redo it, I wouldn’t. She is my first true love, and will be my last. If I had the chance to redo, I wouldn’t, I can’t stand the pain.

    She is my best friend, and the irony is, that I need my best friend to consol me, to put an arm around my shoulders and provide a shoulder to cry on.

Different Kinds of Alone

‘ve spent a good portion of my time over the past four weeks nursing a broken heart. It is not, however, my heart that is broken. I’m not sure that small fact makes the nursing of a broken heart any easier. I’m a veteran; I know how to deal with a heart that is broken. Tending to one’s own heart is much easier than looking out for the well-being of another’s.

This particular case proves even trickier than normal, since I once harbored some fierce romantic notions for this broken-hearted friend. It has taken more strength than I thought I had not to let my perpetually lonely heart take over and spew bitterness over being the one he didn’t choose. It’s hard to listen to someone you wanted cry incessantly over losing the woman he loved, the woman you were not.

I am not a saint. Sometimes my lonely bitterness comes seeping out. This bitterness I could not control lead to a discussion on loneliness. He’s lonely, having just lost the woman he loved. He’s unsure if he’ll ever find love again. If he’ll be able to find the right woman and have it all work out. Right now he’s all alone.

It’s a different kind of alone than I’m used to, and I’m not sure if one is better than the other.

My kind of alone is big and endless. It’s about imagining the possibility, but never actually experiencing it. It’s filled with impossible dreams and unattainable fantasies. The kind of alone that makes you sigh at sappy romantic comedies starring Hugh Grant and/or Julia Roberts and/or Sandra Bullock. The kind of alone that brings on the mean reds, when you get terribly frightened that maybe, just maybe there’s something wrong with you and you’re not built for love.

My kind of alone draws out the white knight in men, only to send them away with its stubbornness. This kind of alone cannot be dissipated by the attention of faint-hearted men. This is the alone born in the bones, and even when the bones have someone to lie next to in bed, the loneliness still persists.

His alone, as best I can tell, is completely different. It’s the kind of alone that’s small, and begins where that person used to fit in beside you and ends where your arm used to cup her shoulder. This kind of alone is filled with memories of better times and things that could have been done differently.

His kind of alone draws out the nurturer in women, only to send them away with the rawness of so much emotion felt for another woman. This kind of alone, I believe, goes away with time. With the healing and the forgetting of pain, this kind of alone will disappear in the cool hand of a new girl with sparks in her eyes. This kind of alone will not persist when someone new fills the spot next to him.

I cannot say which kind of alone is better. Perhaps it’s not a competition.

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