Second Person Quarantine

I was leaving the party, into the cold night air, and I realized there was only one place for me to go, and that was right across the street. As I crossed the yard, and the vibrant activity behind me began to recede, I felt my feet in my shoes and I could hear my breathing. The fence was open, the sound of traffic was only far away, so far that it seemed like lapping currents. The only light before me came from the house that I was now facing, which was not my house, or really belonging to anyone I knew, but I had the sense that they would most certainly welcome me upon my arrival, recognizing me as a natural occupant.
            I did not care about those I was leaving behind, for they would be having fun with or without me, having planned this event for some time, long before I had even been a part of it. It’s not that it was getting out of hand, just that I had nothing to offer, no new insight or resource. It would have been a nice place to wake up, but then I still would have had to find my own way back in the morning. I couldn’t find the one who had invited me, in any of the rooms, among any of the happy faces, the music and dancing. I wasn’t about to spoil their good time sitting by myself working on puzzles, waiting for the right time. I can make it on my own.
            The problem is the fact that these are the only two houses with anything going on, I can see that now as I make my way from one to the other. Everyone else around here must be asleep or away. It’s hard to tell the difference between a sleeping house and an empty one from the outside. Without a reason to be there, a place is just part of the natural environment, taking up space, withering and decaying as fast as it can in the weather, the sun and the rain, the heat and the mold. It is up to us to find in ourselves the proper means of maintenance, caring for and loving this spot that we chose, because we could see our children growing up together here, becoming better than they were and that we could otherwise be.
            Nobody will stop me. It would take a mysterious force, a secondhand phenomenon to slow me upon my current trajectory. But even He doesn’t care to limit my potential, as long as I play within my frame and follow the rules that I have only recently become accustomed to. I am so far beyond any interaction in this kind of thought pattern that I cannot imagine what worth I could be to a single person, let alone all of everyone anywhere. But I am constantly aware that even this level of loneliness is certainly universal, that especially in feeling alone I am more like everyone that I will never meet, speak to, see, or realize. The ones dead long before, born years later, and alive in a space so distant and practically inaccessible from my own.
            My life has become a tragedy, having lost time and again, to the point of not knowing who I am or what I am doing here. All I can do or ask for is to enjoy the moment, to find myself a better way of being, because anything can go on for too long without a proper proportion of control. I am not concerned with what I will find when I get there, because I always have to be in exactly one place, that is the cost that I am giving up for leaving, spending time without any hope of getting there.