And then suddenly my life is characterized by a stark loneliness. Everything is quiet. My phone doesn’t ring, and anyway I’ve turned it to silent. I don’t put on music because nothing seems right for the way I feel, which is mostly okay, but a little dazed. It seems far away now, and I can barely remember it: the bars, and the boys, and taking pictures with my girlfriends. My eyes usually betrayed the number of drinks I’d had, half closed. Tongue out, chin tilted upward. I wonder if I was really happy, then.
It feels like the whole city ought to have gone dead now that it’s lost its hold on me. I imagine that downtown, the bars are empty and the people that were once my friends stay home, too. But I know that their world will go on without me, that there will be parties that are mostly the same as the many that I’d attended, except that I won’t be there. Probably no one will have a sense that something is missing, though this whole thing has left a little hole in my heart. Everyone will break your heart.
