Parties are funny things. You go, and you meet people, and everyone is open and friendly. People are timid at first but eventually stories are exchanged, jokes are told, and alcohol begins to flow. Before you know it you're smiling and laughing. The night goes well and new stories are made, interesting conversations are had.
You meet people and form opinions and relationship dynamics start to form. Other ones develop. Feelings and ideas start to take shape. As the conversations take its turns, thoughts and ideas pop up and you find yourself picking between them. You want to share some experiences, but you stop short. Not everything is appropriate. Not everything fits.
A while later the lows of the alcohol or caffeine begin to hit, the morning hours are upon you and people start to fade off. They vanish into the night.
After a little while, you decide it's time. You and your friends set off for home. Another great night out.
You arrive at home, the lights are off, the place is quiet. Your shoes echo as they hit the floor. You're alone, and now that the music is finally gone and the sounds of laughter are just whispers in your ear, you can feel it. There is a hollowness. You yearn for contact. You need someone to absorb the stories you haven't told, the opinions you've developed, the ideas you've come up with.
A person to understand. Not so much a person to reason with, or to find a solution. Rather, you need a person to listen. To nod and smile. To sympathize. To agree.
You turn on your computer and move straight to MSN. Bill's out of town. John's probably asleep. Is Kate there? Do you really want to talk to your ex? She isn't. Your stuck.
The place is still empty. The rooms are still dark. You have to give up. You lie in bed. You turn off the light, and you feel it.
