I want to be alone in the night, but you won’t let me

trigger warning : mental health, suicidal ideation and alcohol consumption.

It’s funny how night and day are such different worlds.

In the daytime it’s so busy and at night time so calm, or so I assumed. In my imagination, the city at night would have been quiet and asleep, except for cats, who sneak out of the comfort of their owners houses to wander, for reasons unknown to us. It has actually been a subject of fascination for me, especially when I was little. I remember watching a documentary where pet owners installed GPS trackers on their cats’ collars in order to see where they go when left to their own device. I and most visibly, the owners, was mesmerised when I saw how cats each have their own little daily itinerary, that they go on solitarily, and that they defend with claws and hisses. They establish their own little kingdom, the route which is theirs and theirs alone which they take great care and pride (although that might be my own projection) to survey each day, carefully choreographed in order not to meet any other cat. The scientists in the documentary produced a neat map of the neighbourhood detailing all the uncrossing itineraries in different colours, one for each precious cat. It was beautiful, like some kind of embroidery, or the maze puzzles on the back of cereal boxes. I think it certainly inspired me to live my life in a certain way. I have always tried to go about my outings alone, calculating itineraries to the dot to avoid unpredicted interactions, and this has almost always worked neatly for me. I rarely explain this to anyone openly and honestly. That is because when I have tried to explain my idiosyncrasy to some people, including my mother, all I get is a reaction of pity or concern. I have heard “Oh that’s such a terrible shame you don’t have to live like that you know”, or “ oh bless, it will get easier as you get older “. I never understood those reactions, truly. Me having my own planned itinerary, carefully choreographed has brought me a great comfort which no unplanned interaction has ever been able to. I always make sure I pass next to all the things buildings, painted tiles, windows with shrubs and flower pots, even the occasional cat, and the sight of those things is what brings me joy. If it makes me happy, if it makes me feel good then why would people find it odd and react negatively. By now I understand that I will probably never find out and I take comfort in the knowledge that I have something feline about myself.

To get back to my nocturnal musings, these types of walks are all the better at night. I’m lucky enough to live in a fairly safe and quiet area, I am in fact only just realising these days how lucky that is and how it has avoided me many issues, which no doubt, other girls and women, struggle with terribly in other cities. At night, especially after a scorching summer day, I like to go out exactly when the atmosphere finally decides to cool down. There is an ethereal period of time from 11 until one or two in the morning. It feels as though night is only just setting yet it’s already pitch black and the air is cool and breezy, but not the chill of night as you expect it. I first go to the small lesser-known Plaza in front of the cathedral at the back of my house, sit down, look up and drink in the night sky. I generally then walk towards the museum. This one truly is one of my favourite locations to go by at night. You get to vaguely see the silhouettes of some of the sculptures, turned to whispering shadows in the night, but not much more. Of course I love to see the exhibits in the day time, but it has a different feel at night. I like to think about all the sculptures and people in the paintings, alone and still in dark rooms in a big empty building in the middle of a city, and how they must all sigh a collective sigh of relief when the last visitors have left. It feels really uncanny and yet romantic.

When I am out on my night stroll, I feel everything, and nothing at the same time. When I moved here initially, the nothingness I felt was pleasant, my quiet sigh when all the visitors have gone. But the more time has been going on, (and today in particular) the more I don’t understand exactly how I feel. I know it’s in the range of nothingness to very bad, it’s difficult to quantify. Although specifically today, I feel so much nothingness that it burns. Hm. It makes me realise that it really isn’t good, is it. I touch my chest and stomach, and it makes me think of the colour black, the absolute absence of light. The worst part is that I don’t know why. Pain hurts, love makes you confused, absent people make you long. But what makes you feel the way I feel.

Ah, who am I kidding. It’s probably fair to say that everything is crumbling. I want, I love to be alone, but I’m also so lonely. I wish I had people who understood me. I wish I had people who understood my subtle nuances, and didn’t just criticise me for making myself alone when I do need to be alone. Among other things. One way I have found to help myself realise when I am actually feeling in the bad-nothingness area, is when I get thoughts that make me cry. They are unprovoked, well, sometimes provoked thoughts reminding me of my failures, how bad I am at my job. How little money I have. How little friends I have. How I always make the wrong choices. This evening, I am having all of those. I think I have hit some kind of low though. Suddenly I cry, bawl my eyes out even, at the thought that I would make someone, I’m not sure who but surely someone, cry if I died. I don’t know why my brain did that to me. But it helps me realise that really, I’m finding it hard to want to exist. I know.. it’s heavy..and cliché. But I don’t know what to do with those feelings. 

“Cliché, what’s that? Oh wait.. yeah I know what cliché means ha! Yeah, that’s you alright!”

I don’t know what to respond to that, I’m smacked by the rudeness of the comment. 

He laughs, no he bursts with laughter, and I think I might even be seeing some small tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Look at you, so tense! You don’t even know what to say, how to just have a laugh about yourself. Are you stuck up or what?” He laughs but also stares at me in what I assume to be defiance.

I don’t…so rude. I don’t…know what to think. My eyes start welling up and I turn around to leave. I feel a wound opening up in my chest . So much for taking a chance.

***

This evening I went out. I don’t know what possessed me, against all my instincts I decided I need to leave, disappear for a little bit. Of course I had no thoughts about where to go to, I was just running on pure energy, or emotion, or something like that. I walked and walked. I was only faintly realising that I wasn’t going past my beloved cathedral or Museum. I didn’t care, I wasn’t thinking, I probably am, still not thinking to be honest. I carried on like that for what felt like hours. Suddenly I found myself in a not so quiet part of town. I started panicking, what part of town is this where there are people awake at night? Obviously this is a stupid thought. Who hasn’t heard of night life? Apparently I’ve been living so secluded, that I have forgotten to exist. The street I found myself in was fairly quiet, only a few staggering passer-by’s seemed to be around. I realised that most likely, all the main happening clubs of the town centre, must have been a couple of street corners away. That means I have come very far out of my normal circuit, my comfort zone. Oddly, I felt half panicked at this deep inside, and normally I think I might have cried or at least needed to sit down, but the other half of me took over and it felt like nothing mattered and, if this is to be my last night then what’s wrong with exploring somewhere new, people do that all the time. I am a person, aren’t I, after all?

“Hey, you out looking for some fun?” Half dazed I turned around, and that’s when I saw him. A man, a young man in fact, sat directly on the ground, alone, slightly sprawled. He looked like he had been drinking more than a bit. He looked so proud of himself and smug that it ignited something in me. He was fairly good looking, which seemed a waste on such a bad character. His hair was wet, presumably sweat, sticking it to his forehead. He was holding an empty bottle in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. 

He laughed suddenly. “You heard me, I know you did, and you’ve not left yet so you know you must want some!”

Disgust. Disgust is what I was feeling. I realised I hadn’t moved or said anything and was standing towering above him, staring at his red sweaty face. I might have seemed brave, or weak like a rabbit in headlights, I don’t know.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? Come- sit with me, come on!”

My body reacted. I sat down against the wall next to him, at a polite distance. I don’t know why, and I’m half terrified I might die. I half feel like it would be welcome. I am going against all my instincts because my brain is experiencing some kind of dysfunction. That must be what’s going on. 

“Why…are you saying those things to me?” I ask, the words coming out of my mouth feel unreal.

”Ha she speaks!” He laughs, again so smug. “I don’t know. I’m young, I’m dumb, I’m looking for fun, that’s it! You’re there, it’s late, you must want the same thing!”

I really don’t though. I don’t want to be seen. I don’t know what I want. But he saw me.

”I don’t want it, I don’t want anything” I almost whisper that.

He stares at me, visibly extremely puzzled, or maybe the alcohol is making it hard for him to process. Maybe I’m being judgemental.

”Can you help me? Can you light my cigarette? My fingers are..they’re being weird” he hands me a lighter but indeed his fingers are struggling to grip.

I make the flame appear and see his features soften, relief.

“Could I have a cigarette too?” I ask.

He then proceeds to roll one for me, with great difficulty.

”Ah you know, it’s your lucky day, I don’t ever give anyone any of my tobacco. Only to you, because you’ve been so nice” he licks the paper, and hands it to me. I really haven’t done anything particularly nice I don’t think.

”ahah I’ve made you smile” he gives me uncomfortable eye contact. “You were looking so white, like a sheet, I thought I’d cheer you up and look at you now! You’re welcome ahah!” He laughs.

”How are you managing to not muddle your words?” I am genuinely perplexed at his composure. I look at the moon, it is full and milky, and I blow out smoke.

”Ah I’m used to it don’t worry” he brushes his hand through his dark messy light hair.

”How much have you had to drink?” I find myself genuinely curious, and cold as a breeze makes me shiver.

“enough”, he looks away

”Do you still have some?” I’m not sure what else to talk about at this point really and I’m feeling awkward.

”look, I said enough, I asked you to come for some fun, not to fucking question me”

I feel petrified, and I remember how, what I’m doing is so bad, I really should go. But I can’t move. I feel my heart beating in my throat and my hands feel moist and cold. I marvel at the irony, of feeling like I don’t want to exist but still having survival instincts. I start gearing myself to jolt up but he grabs my hand, gently.

”I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…I know I’ve had too much to drink and I feel pathetic, there you go, there’s your explanation.” He softens a little, I think he’s trying to smile at me and I relax my body, or perhaps it’s still feeling numb.

”Why are you out here alone? You’re not drunk. You’ve clearly not been out clubbing, what are you even wearing? Pyjama shorts? What’s your story?” He asks, and his abrasive and loud tone of voice slightly annoys me.

”You’ve not told me why you’re drunk on a floor” I reply toneless. I figured, if he can be playful then why can’t I. If there’s any time for me to try that..it’s now.

”Oh my god. Ok. I was out with my friends, they all found girls to bring home and I didn’t. There was no space in their taxi for me so they left me. My phone is dead. Here I am. Now you”

”Why didn’t you find a girl? Is that all you and your friends came out for?” I push my luck. I think I don’t really want to talk about myself.

”Yeah because people think that’s all guys think about isn’t it” I look at him slightly surprised at the aggressive irony. “Alright.” He sighs and looks away, nervously blowing out smoke. “I got dumped last night and my friends asked me to go out, to cheer me up. And then they all abandon me. We’d been together since high school me and her. And I don’t know. It feels weird to sleep with some other girl when I was still with her like two days ago.” He looks tense. “But I could with you, because you’re nice ahaha” and I feel gross again.

I think he realises because I say nothing, he gives me an apologetic look but says nothing.

I then proceed to tell him a bit about myself. My evening. The cat documentary. The cathedral and museum. The numbness. And how I went out because I didn’t want to exist. It feels so weird, to be talking to a stranger like this. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad weird. It makes me feel a little sick but also a little less tense. But then he tells me I’m stuck up, and that really hurts. He doesn’t acknowledge anything. At least I guess I do still have feelings then.

I get up to leave, I’ve had enough and this is stupid.

”I just wanted to be alone tonight” my words sound broken.

I walk stiffly. All my limbs have gone cold and I have goosebumps, I think it’s past two I the morning now, probably 3 or 4 even, the proper night’s cold has started.

I am so stupid, what have I done, who else would sit with a stranger, with no phone…I can’t believe how stupid I am, and I break down crying. I don’t realise at that point that at least I am still alive and I got a free cigarette. And someone listened to my problems, they have been let out, freed like pathetic balloons in the night sky, now at least one person heard me.

I hear running but I can’t react. Hands grab my shoulders and I sob loudly. What am I doing now.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry really. You’re like the person who’s been the nicest to me all day and I made you cry. I’m such an asshole I’m so sorry.”

”you’ve sobered up quickly” I sob. He hugs me from behind, holding both my shoulders and I feel less cold.

“Yes, thank you. Look…Let me tell you what I really meant to say.” He sits me down on a nearby bench and he faces me, clumsily tying to help me wipe my tears.

”What you told me, it’s really heavy. I only thought you were stuck up for a second, when I first saw you, that’s all I swear. I’m sorry you feel so bad. Or..whatever it is you’re feeling. But don’t stop existing. You can’t. Look you’re just a random lady I don’t know, but you helped me, really you did. You didn’t ignore me or insulted when I cried for help. I would never speak like that to someone normally, trust me. I don’t know how, but it feels ok to be this open and kind of pathetic with you”

”What you asked me..that was a cry for help?”

He blushes and looks down in embarrassment. “Yeah I guess it was. If you hadn’t answered me or sat down with me, I don’t know man, I might have not existed now either. It’s not fair, it’s really not. Just one person, or one bad thing can suck us dry like that, but you’ve only shown me kindness and that tells me of all the people, you definitely need to stick around”

“Now who’s being cliché..” I look away, because honestly I don’t know what to think. I feel like those things are just too easy to say.

”Well… maybe, whatever. I mean it. I'm not a therapist or, your boyfriend, I don’t know the right words. I can’t offer you anything really, except what I offered you to start with” he laughs, I smile “That’s all I can offer you, tell you, and those are the only words I have but I mean them.” He brushes some hairs out of my face and smiles. “Oh and, when I called you on the street, I know I was being gross. I mean I still find it hilarious when you stared back at me looking so angry, but I called you because you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen all night and I don’t know, I just wanted to see if I could get your attention”

”You know I would never have answered you any other time..you’re sort of lucky I guess. Although I don’t want any kind of fun with you. I could consider being your friend”

“That’s fine by me”

I might have been wrong earlier about my perception of time, because there was definitely signs that sunrise was on the way.