I suffer from empty arms. Empty arms is an affliction of the mind, which is akin to loneliness, but any sufferer will tell you it’s a slightly different feeling. Most of the time, you’re happy in your solitary state. At others, feelings of confusion and sadness will wash over you when you least expect it. It will feel as though your arms have grown in size, the space between your right arm and your left is inexplicably larger and they feel so clumsy and cumbersome.
You can’t plan when you’ll feel it. Sometimes it will be when you’re lying awake in bed past midnight, walking out of a restaurant by yourself with the sultry smell of garlic filling the evening air, on a cold bright winter’s morning in January when snow covers the ground or when you’re at a concert alone in the crowd. The sensation is confusing, often comparable to a melting pot of the hopeless desire to hold someone, anyone in your arms and the sad acknowledgement that your shyness, cold exterior and crippling self doubt may stop you from ever finding someone.
If out with friends when these feelings arise, your farewell hugs will linger longer than usual. You know you shouldn’t grasp your friend so hard, but just being held, the sensation of being appreciated, even if for one moment, is all too much to contend with.
You wait for the day you when will walk out of restaurants being able to hold someone’s hand, the day when someone will fall asleep in your arms, the day when you’re drunk in the back of a taxi coming home and clinging onto someone’s arm, and knowing that you never want to let go.
But you know, as much as you want it, the thought of someone needing you, is far too much to contend with. Instead you will continue living your private life, screaming internally at the every day idiots you encounter, attempting to live up to your ridiculously strict moral code while hating yourself for every little foolish thing you do. Sometimes you feel as if you’re a social pariah. And so you will continue, until these pangs of confusion and sadness hit you again, and you think to yourself as you look down at the gaping gap between your arms- ‘look at my arms, they’re so empty’.
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