I used to find the fear of dying alone ridiculous. I love people but I know I lack the basic traits and also flaws that make them click and mix with one another, and call each other friends and lovers. I'm 23, lived a life of lonesome, I'm thankful for all my blessings, I try to be humble and happy and I always knew that I was meant to live alone, and by proxy, die alone.
But this new roommate in my campus dorms is changing this for me. He is a 40 year old man from Chile who's come to my country for a month. No wife, no kids, lives alone back at home, goes to his job and gets drunk.
This guy comes back to the dorm drunk once a week, at night. Sometimes he brings a new girl that he tries to woo with wine, and he ends up falling asleep next to the empty bottle. Today, in the afternoon hours, the guards helped him up to our dorm, and he can't speak or find his keys, he's kicking a bag on the ground and has the most fucking heartbreaking look in his eyes.
I also have been growing a habit of getting drunk lately. It's the only way I deal with staring at the walls around me and fantasizing about having a girlfriend, nowadays. Is this me in 20 years?
He tried to hug me but he was a little aggressive and unpredictable, I tried to help him find his keys but he dropped to the floor and started crying. Then my other roommates came out and we put him outside on the sofa, with a cup of water.
I don't want to be this man one day and it, now, frightens me to know I've tried all the tricks I know and can muster up, yet still cannot seem to make any friends or lovers. The clock is ticking and all I have is hundreds of acquaintances yet not a single person I call dear.
High is the way but our eyes are upon the ground