New Year's Eve

“This seems to be a year that I have had to pay my dues.”

That's what I said to myself, over and over. The recourse towards my loneliness was so obvious, even to myself. I saw through me quicker than any ghost that I've lived with before.

I sighed, and told myself that there's always next year. But those words just didn't seem to change much about how I felt towards the situation.

I knelt down, and I began my work with the painkillers in the pharmacy; stocking them, that is. I hate to admit that I was dragging myself along; my eyes weren't as wide this one, certain night.
Faintly, footsteps approached and my manager shouts “Happy New Year James,” from somewhere behind me. “Happy New Year, Anthony,” I respond.

My mind wandered and came up with numerous ideas of how the rest of the world was out partying and enjoying themselves beyond belief, which I was happy for. I thought of you. My manager turned the corner and slowly faded off and entered the back room, leaving me solely alone on my side of the store. I thought of you again, and wished that somehow in all of this confusion, you would read between the lines; you would know what was being said, without having to say it. I fantasized over how I would give anything to just hear you approach. To turn around to find your silhouette. To turn around to you, ready with your heart in your hand.

But instead, I dialed back into myself. My hazy outlook became clear again, as did my reasoning. I looked to the marble floor, and I couldn't even see my own reflection; I felt that lost.

So I turned to the inside of the aisle, began to stock, and started humming to myself:

Hmm.... Hmm ....
Someday....
Someday, my pain will fade...
Hmm.... Hmm ....
Someday....
Someday, my pain will fade away...
Hmm.... Hmm.... Hmm.....