Another late night alone, staring at pictures on the computer and pining for what can never be. Half-played video games are stacked on one side of the computer, a pile of unopened anime DVDs on the other. There never seems to be enough time, and the time I do have ticks by, minute after minute, hour after hour, and never anything gets accomplished.

Another late night alone, lying awake counting the cracks in the ceiling. One by one.... I know them well: we are old friends. Countless nights have found me here, staring at the ceiling and dreading the next day. A stack of books lies on one side of the bed, great novels all. A stack of adult magazines lies on the other. Both have helped wile away the time: staying up late, yawning, and following Frodo's adventures in Middle-Earth or flipping page after page of half-naked Asian women.

Nothing breaks the ennui now. Outside the moon shines brightly and the stars twinkle merrily, but for me they've lost their luster. In just a few short hours from now, the golden orb of the morning will poke its head above the sleepy eastern hills. And still, here I'll be - lying awake, another night alone.

The voice is faint now, most nights I can no longer hear her. Gentle sobs in the dark corners of my soul. Once I called her "friend". Once I called her "sister". Once I called her "lover". Once I called her "myself".

But no more. Society has little patience for grown men with "imaginary playmates" or "invisible friends", regardless if the playmate or friend is within or without the person. "Get in touch with your inner child," but don't spend any time with her. I was a coward; I fell prey to the strictures of society. Desperate to fit in, desperate to belong, I stopped calling her "myself". I stopped calling her "lover". I stopped calling her "sister". I stopped calling her "friend". I stopped calling her.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The minutes pass by. The unrelenting tide of time that waits for no man. Tick. Tick. Tick. And still, another night alone drags on. I've thought about it, of course, on nights like this. Sometimes the ennui is too much to bear. It would only take a few moments, an extension cord, a toaster, and a bathtub... But still I linger on, a coward, but alive...

I imagine fifty years from now, it'll be the same. I'll be lying here, counting cracks in the ceiling and half-hoping to hear a sob in the darkness. There'll probably be a few more cracks by then, new friends to join the old. The faded anime posters may still line the walls, even.