2

I read about the politics of loneliness and stir 
a teaspoon of sorrow in my tea. Do you get to 
feel alone and have it called an epidemic? Do 
I get to feel alone and have myself be deigned 
an old hag? I want to fail spectacularly at life, 
be free of the lingering hope that it will turn 
out like everyone else’s. You, of your perfectly 
designed life events; me, of my unorganised
existence I carry around in sustainable tote bags. 
How can our loneliness be similar, scampering 
around old bars in cities, flirting with each other 
when they meet? How can your loneliness tell 
mine that it is a mirror, a friend, a deep well in 
a far corner of the black forest? Why would it 
ask my loneliness to hold hands and escape the 
darkness? Mine is older, has been in love before, 
and lost. What do you know of losing? You are a 
study in human psychology. I am a memoir of a 
woman, unfortunate. You are a research paper. 
I am an old wive’s tale.