Confessions Of A ManLivingDying In Loneliness Some cry out and damn the world when they feel they have been discriminated against, age or sex, race or religion, but what of the ones who are shy? Some have gone to college, received good grades, but trying for a job and getting an interview they are never hired because they don’t talk enough or don’t seem interested enough in the company, but they are and don’t know how to express it. The ideas are in the head somewhere, but they won’t come out in a language understood by others, so rejected, “It was nice talking to you but we have no job for you at this time.” Then what do you do? Try and try again and return with the same answer, no job, and again, still in need of work so one tries for underemployment interviewing starts all over again, and this time “Sorry, you’re over qualified for this job I’m sorry, we’re looking for someone who would be satisfied with us.” I am one of these people, very quiet, and I would be satisfied, I would be satisfied, but it is of no use, instead of going up in the world, you’re down another notch, and now, you can’t get a job at a gas station, delivering papers, making hamburgers, washing cars. Four years of college, too qualified, not qualified enough, there is no in between. I sink lower and lower and have yet to find bottom, yet I’m getting closer and closer. There I am, in loneliness, but others say they are discriminated against, that they might be, but this is worst to me for at this time level you have no one to talk to, you have no friends, you die in loneliness. Others in the city are talking, but that for me is a hard thing to do. Yes, I must try, but I need the help of others but others say “You’re messed up man, I don’t understand you.” and yes, that’s true, not even I understand it all, so there I sit, thinking thoughts of committing suicide. It is a part of my life, thinking those thoughts. I have plenty of time to think, that is my life, alone in life, in thought of what is the best way to commit suicide? Jump off a tall building, overdose of sleeping pills, car exhaust, poison, gunshot, rob a bank and let the police catch and shoot you, but as always, suicide is thrown away, only to come up again and then thrown away, and then there are thoughts of getting caught committing a crime sentenced and jailed so then food, shelter, clothes are provided for you, no worries of unemployment, finding that all important job to stay alive, no taxes, no bills, just cell walls and cell bars to contain you. This just might be heaven, but then time is also a daydream to keep yourself alive. It doesn’t exist in reality for me. I spend most of my time in dream, dreams of becoming rich, of becoming the smartest man in the world, equally skilled in everything possible to do, becoming famous, known and loved by all, but my poetry brings me back. It brings me out of my dream and ends my loneliness. It is my friend and says what I cannot speak aloud. Autobiography: Chapter 258 I talked to my wife about our dog going outside and taking a poop like it was important news. That’s what dogs do, poop, piss, bark, eat and sleep a lot. It wasn’t anything important, but I acted like it was, like I had just finished writing a novel and had found a press to publish it. Fireworks were ready to go off. There wasn’t anything important going on with my life that I knew about, but I tell myself there was just like the sky is blue and the clouds are white, and this is my life, however sad it may be. Can It Be Called Life? My life is lonely, look at it if you can. It is not because I am ugly, my face is okay. I have seen women look at it with interest, or am I just imagining that. Check my teeth check my feet as if I were a horse up for auction, but I am not. My health is good, a slight gut from too many beers and not enough exercise. I have looked at my face in the mirror and found that it is okay looking. My manners are okay. I’m polite, sometimes helpful, but I know that these are not the things I worry over. It is my shyness, and it is killing me. I need a woman to teach me to not to be afraid. I need to fall in love. I do not need loneliness, I see that every day and night. It has made me cry. Seeing couples together is painful. They laugh and dance and talk and make love, enjoying each other’s company while I cry. If I did not know that there is happiness in the world, then I would not want it. Loneliness is what I have. Shyness, may it die. I do not want to die of loneliness. let me fall in love and forget of my shyness.
Duane Anderson currently lives in La Vista, NE. He has had poems published in Fine Lines, Cholla Needles, Tipton Poetry Journal, and several other publications. He is the author of ‘On the Corner of Walk and Don’t Walk,’ ‘The Blood Drives: One Pint Down,’ and ‘Conquer the Mountains.’
Confessions 