The Writing on the Wall

There are certain places around where I live, where you can go in and sit down to eat and there are photographs on the walls and people's writing on the tables and over the pictures and the whole place just feels like it has a sense of history, of humanity, of life to it.  And I've never really thought of it before, not even when I've been in those very same places, but people had moments there.  They had the best nights of their lives, or the worst.  They will have gone there with friends and family and they've heard good news and bad news, and those photographs, those signatures, those names carved into the wood, they are all full of emotion.

I haven't felt that kind of emotion in a long time, especially not in the company of people.  There were all of those nights so far into the spring that it may as well have been summer.  Some with one person, some in a large company.  There were some winter nights as well, I guess, but those rarely compared to the hot and humid twilight that permeated my springs.  Maybe that's why I like heat and humidity so much, because so many of my memories are so thoroughly tied in with the moments that were shared on those nights.

I've never been a people person.  I don't really like people all that much.  It takes me a long time to warm up to them, and even then, I'm not always particularly comfortable around them.  But never, in all of the time I've spent alone (and I assure you, there has been a lot of such time), have I had moments, emotions, memories, anything even remotely close to the things that have happened when I spent time with people.  All of my best memories are from the times I have spent with people I am close to.

And it's been a while since I had a moment like this.  It's probably because I am looking for new people to be close to, but I'm not there yet.  I'm sad that I'm not there.  I miss people.  I miss having close friends, and I miss long evenings spent with them.  I'm still lonely, and I was really hoping that I wouldn't be anymore, by this time. I don't know.  I don't know when I'll stop being lonely or if I ever really will.  But I miss people.  I miss having friends.  So I really hope I figure something out, so that I can have evenings like that again.  So that I can write on walls, metaphorically, at least.