What is sad
Is not that I am lonely.
It is the realisation that my aloneness
Is not quite equal to my loneliness.
It is that tired feeling of being around
People. (Do they tire me
Or do they remind me that I am tired?)
It is knowing how well – not “well”, but “normal”,
or “good enough”,
or “mostly unaffected” –
I can live without seeing anyone at all.
It is subsisting on memory,
It is past and not present what-ifs,
It is wondering if:
Is it just me, or me not putting in the effort?
The sad thing is,
I can’t tell if I’m lying —
I can’t tell if I’m lonely at all.