Alone beneath the stars I sit. Lonely beyond words and yet surrounded by the bustle of a world which doesn’t seem to understand me. I am, just like Orion, separate and distinct, and yet…. yet I am crowded in by the noise of a thousand, million souls. We spin and dance, me trying to escape their constant, meaningless chatter, while all the time each time I turn to face another direction I find myself once more blended into their noise. There is no peace, no respite from the constant reminder that I am just a speck of dust in other peoples’ lives. I am nothing more than an atom, forced to resonate to other songs. I am the nameless one who is used to absorb the stupid and inane nonsense of the world. Were you to try to find me in amongst these stars that burn so bright and so loudly I would be untraceable. I am the nothing that the world uses to gild itself and I shall always be that way.
There is no hope for me. Hope is a quality for men who can think beyond today and dream of tomorrows. Whilst others play at their lives knowing that there is by right a better tomorrow I am forced to watch the slow grinding down of mine to dust. I no longer have my youth, no longer have my health, my mind has slowly become cloudy in its thinking. The stomping of a tenant on the stairs, the dogs demanding my attention, there is no peace. At no moment in my life is there ever silence and as I rot slowly within this cage that is my body silence is what I crave the most. I wish that I could stick needles in my ears, remove the sense which hurts me so much. Deafen myself and in that silence drift into an oblivion of sleep. But even in the act of deafening myself I know that there would be no peace. The pounding of this blood within my veins would keep me from hearing nothing. I have heard too much, felt too much for one lifetime and now it’s time to stop. Time to turn into something else and become someone, something new. Not captive to the noise of the television or other people but to be able instead to hear my own voice, my own song for once.
It may be meaningless to anyone but me but it is my voice, it has a value even if that value is minor. It will never be a voice which other people wish to hear. They will choose to sing louder so they can hear their own or fall silent to hear some other voice. But for me the song I carry is my own and has been woven through all the pain and sadness that it has been my lot to carry. It has been drawn from the day to day destruction of one being by others. Slowly each hand has chipped away at the little growth that I have managed, each time something has been created it has been removed, not maliciously but rather because it doesn’t fit their sense of how the world should be. It doesn’t fit with them and they see that my life should in some way mirror theirs. When I request silence, when I excuse myself from company they choose to move right back into my space and keep talking. Disregarding my wishes they keep talking, keep munching loudly, keep intruding on the silence until my head feels like it wants to explode and I want to scream out loud “leave me alone”. You don’t need to know what I am doing, I don’t need to explain every little detail of my thoughts when you choose and have always chosen to keep your own life private and locked away from everyone.
I am so very tired. Tired of the struggle to live. To life is something different that I have never known. It is an act where there is hope of something tomorrow. For me there is only the knowledge that there will be a struggle to survive another day and that that will burn through all the meager resources that I have at my disposal. Morning will come and go, will change to night, I will rise and return to the grave which is my bed. There will be no change. Just a continuation of the sameness of existence.
And so the darkness falls and hides the rain which still pouring slowly dissolves the last vestiges of happiness I feel. There will be no moon, no stars tonight. Just the darkness and the noise of other lives going on around me. I will be nothing more than the absorption of a million other beings and will wake tomorrow all the thinner and less real for it. I will sit a little longer under the stars and watch them muddy and disguise myself. As I, Orion, lose myself to the poison of the scorpion “noise”.