Short and Simple

Composition// Solitude

I recently had to write another narrative or composition on another random idea. This time, I had to write on Solitude...

Solitude. It means being alone. It means not having anyone to talk to. Nobody knows solitude like me. Nobody.

I walk to the coffee shop this morning, deciding that I should treat myself to a bagel and a nice warm Americano. The beautiful aroma of coffee beans and baked goods tingle my nose as I step in.

I stare at the steaming black cup of coffee in front of me and think about the recent events. It can't possibly get worse than that, right?

I think about calling my best friend, but then remember she had been killed in a drunk driving accident. I shake my head and tears fill my eyes for what seems like the millionth time this week. My friend and I were by each other's sides all throughout life. I was going to go to her wedding, but I guess plans for next week are going to be cancelled. How close she was to a major milestone of her life. I push these thoughts away as I focus on my drink and force a smile on my ashen, depressed face.

The bitter taste shocks my tastebuds and jolts me awake, though it is just what I need at the moment.

A subtle coffee drinker, I would never get used to the manly flavour of it. But then again, I'll never get over the death of my comrade. And with that, depressing thoughts find their ways back to my mind.

The worst part about losing someone so close is that you lose a part of yourself too. Always. She took away my smile. She took away my carefree personality. She took away a part of my heart, my soul...me. Without her, I'm nothing.

Maybe before she was gone, I didn't realize that I had no one else. But it didn't matter; she was enough. We would stay up late watching movies, spending hours talking to each other. But now, I am forever silenced.

She was older than me by four years. I would ask her for advice all the time. She got mad at me every time I borrowed one of her shirts or blouses. She was my shoulder and I was hers. And now, I have nobody. Not one single soul will be able to replace her. Not now, not ever. Her unique personality was my light every time I landed deep down in the abyss.

Each morning, I wake up and see the bed in front of mine empty. All of her things are still scattered around our room, as if she is going to come back any day and clean it. But the truth is, she's never coming back.

Alone. Such a small word, with a direct meaning, but the terror will haunt me for the longest time in unimaginable ways. As if her little mementos, her gold necklace, her basketball trophy, her perfume bottle, weren't enough to hash the past, I get visits from her when I'm sleeping. One night I would see her up on stage receiving her high school diploma, the other, a figure sprawled on a hospital bed, tubes running in and out of her body, accompanied by the endless seeming and annoying beeps which eventually became one sound.

Though she would tease me everyday for all the choices I made, like wearing rubber band bracelets or obsessing over boy bands who had members way older than me, she was my right hand woman.

I took her for-granted. I thought that she would be there to see my kids grow up and go to college. I thought that she would be there to listen to me rant about how my husband forgot my birthday. But of course, she left before I even graduated college.

It's not the same without her, without someone to be there for me. Her accident happened two weeks ago, but I still wake up each morning thinking she will greet me with a "How did you sleep Butterfingers?"

I would be classified as miserable and that's the truth. Give my number to whoever said that losing a loved one and living your life half empty is easy, because it's not. It's impossible.

I wish I was fast enough to outrun loneliness and grief, but unfortunately solitude has a way of catching up to those vulnerable. No one knows what solitude is until they come face to face with it, meet eye to eye. Solitude would always be the winner, its claws waiting to pounce on you and overtake you.

But in times like these, you have to remain strong when each day the ground under you seems like it's going to give way. Being alone, as difficult as it is, is not an excuse to stop living. Moving on in solitude is my miserable future, now that my sister is gone.