When you feel alone, really alone, something inside cries, really cries. Its an isolation that hurts. And an ache that seems inconsolable.
It's hard not to feel angry with the degree of self pity that loneliness brings; particularly when you know you have those around you who really love you - warts'n'all. As much as you tell yourself that, and as much as you love those people back, the bleakness of loneliness all too often refuses to subside, refuses to listen to your logic, to be convinced by your arguments ... instead it lingers ...it haunts and it devours. Selfishly.
When did I learn to become so dissatisfied, so angry at myself, so critical of what has not been done, or indeed has? ... what "is not"; or is.
Life is so short and I have so much to be thankful for, but my mind .... my mind sometimes blackens all that is wonderful, all that I cherish and reminds me that at the end of the day, I'm alone, really alone.
Sometimes I want to scream. I want to cry ... really cry ... let it all out - this intense emotion that I can't explain.
I have no idea what real loneliness in, how do people survive it? What must life be really like for that abandoned young person on the street or that old man pushing the cart. Is it necessary that we all at times feel their pain? Why shouldn't we.
I just want it to go away. I know tomorrow, things will be different. It doesn't last ... thank god ... it doesn't last ... it will pass.
I'm one of the lucky ones.
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