grant sohn

Some mornings, I would sit up from bed to find myself the only one awake in my house. No sounds. I could see that the sun had not risen yet through the single window of our room--my brother's and mine. It was a type of light that had no trace of sun, flooding through that solitary window and painting the wall an industrial blue. It was in these moments that I would----without fail--- feel the greatest sense of despair. My brother was in contrast snoring peacefully across the room. I felt I had woken up too soon. The fear that gripped me was a fear that I was the only one conscious at that exact moment. That I was the only one awake to face existence--that there was an entire world and that I was the only one charged with living in it, suffering by it, and enjoying it. A mix between getting the wind knocked out of me and having my heart broken, the feeling would sieze me, even underneath the warmth of my sheets.Later, I would learn of a thing called time zones, would in fact get my heart broken and the wind knocked out of me, and those moments of dread soon disappeared. Even memories of that feeling disappeared, as videogames, books and girls began occupying my pubescent revolution.Now at the age of 23, I have begun to re-feel that exact feeling from age 9. And I get it randomly when I remember a certain unimportant moment in my past. Weirdly, this memory is incredibly unremarkable and plain. It is not of a memory of past success or tragedy. But as bare as this moment is, my recollection of it is unnecessarily vivid.an intense recollection of a bland moment:It's winter quarter of freshman year in Paloma. I am at the end of the empty hallway where the balcony is, looking down three stories. I remember the exact details of that moment: the exact level of humidity, the pitch of the buzz of the flluorescent light, the exact level of light, the exact length of the carpet and how it felt on my bare feet--I wasn't really doing anything special. But i remember that moment. And it is because I remember that moment that I feel lonely. I am alone in that specific recollection.No one else remembers that moment. Who would want to remember such a bland moment? But for some stupid reason I do--I can recall the exact ambience. This is a mundane moment, it is not a shared tragedy that people can unite their memories around. That exact place and exact time, that experience (or re-experience)/ I am the only one there! The buzz of the fluroescent light! The carpet! No one else is there with me! And that is when I feel the solitude of existence revealed to me--that if living isn't lonely enough, one is alone in his memories as well.

grant sohn