comfort (loneliness: the most comfortable companion)

i listen to radiohead sing

"everything, everything, everything,
in its right place. in its right place."

and i put all my pieces in their appropriate places. and it feels like cliche, but also rings true in my ears. i wonder why everything feels like it's in its right place only when i lay my head down at night and nothing, no one, is there because i've put everything, everyone, away. i wonder why, so often, the only feeling that feels real is loneliness. why the loneliest space is the most comfortable one.

it feels like a cruel joke. to have bound the two together inside a soul. inside a person, both the longing for a thing and a strong aversion to it in adjacent heartbeats.