Loneliness tastes like a warm beer in an overheated Upper West Side apartment, with a fake wall blocking the dying air conditioner. A Spotify playlist pumping top 50 through a Bluetooth speaker, and a guy in a corner strumming chords he learned from YouTube on an old guitar.
It’s a humid breeze on a crowded rooftop of a small party, with people you’ve met, and people you haven’t, and people you’ve dated, and people you will eventually date. It’s maybe one person you want to date but are too scared to make eye contact with for longer than 3 seconds, so you leave without saying hello.
Loneliness sounds like your phone buzzing with Hinge and Jswipe notifications from every person you don’t want to talk to. And then it sounds like waiting. Like waiting and waiting for someone to text you. Someone who isn’t your best friend. Or your roommate. Or your group chat. Or your mother. Who texted for the 3rd time today.
It’s free drink after free drink after free drink after free drink. Look how many free drinks you got! Loneliness is free! Chin up. Smile. Loneliness is free, you lucky son of a bitch.
Loneliness is freedom! Perspective. Perspective. Perspective.
Loneliness is convincing yourself those drinks are free. It is telling yourself again and again and again: you are not lonely.