Anger, I can handle. If found in a friend, I can easily rationalize for her poor behavior. If found in myself, all that is required is a brief sprint or a bit of time alone before the emotion fades. Fear is no different. For a while, one might be afraid of an element or an entity, but familiarity - exposure and research - breeds contempt. Hunger, anxiety, depression - I can cope. Greed, confusion, curiosity - I have learned to tolerate or eliminate with swift precision.
But loneliness...
Loneliness.
Loneliness, the untouchable leech that threatens to bleed the strongest of humans. Loneliness, the inexpressible quality that, perhaps, threatens to strangle the strong more than the weak. After all, being the best and being relatable, by definition, do not coincide. Isn't singling yourself out through sole victory in life a guarantee that loneliness will have free reign in your heart?
What an utter shame, then, that every teacher and textbook in my life has encouraged me, taught me, and disciplined me to outperform competition. What a shame that I've spent more time learning physical chemistry, articulate logic, and mathematical algorithms than I've spent in mastering the art of empathy.
Loneliness.
What can a soul do against it? Even if one were to spend time with legions of talkative and wonderfully interesting people, loneliness can still, with excruciating dark magic, penetrate and drain a normally-energetic host. Distractions fail; compartmentalization is impossible. Even disappearing from reality through sleep or drink only leads to an even keener awakening the next morning.
Someone tell me: what is it about loneliness that crushes me so easily? Even the common event of a crying child being taken from her mother's arms into a nursery sends shivers of terror down my spine. It affects me too painfully; I relate too vibrantly to the slightest display of separation anxiety.
Maybe he was right: I've just lost too much, haven't I? Too many times, I've been torn away from the soul I've loved: "a cut and dried routine." For too long, I've spent my life in the middle of two worlds. This infectious disease of solitude is starting to prove to me that I'm really not as strong as I thought I was, getting under my skin, suppressing my passionate dreams for the future...
What an utter shame...
This was my fault in the first place.
~ ~ ~
Written alone in an empty apartment room at Destin, Florida - 10:00 P.M. to 11:00 P.M.
Write on!
Clove
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