Loneliness is a strange (b)itch, for there are times you just want to be alone and then there are times when the mere thought of being alone sends you to the underworld.
Being alone in the house and talking to yourself or being with a crowd and still talking to yourself both accessories of being lonely. Funny thing about these conversations is the horizon it covers, from acting like the superhero of the movies or looking at the ceiling and discussing (with yourself) where life is taking you.
On second thoughts when being lonely starts to take you to the point of wiping off everything about your existence from the planet, you want the misery to get over and you close your eyes forever and ever. It doesn’t get worse than this – the misery still doesn’t get over instead it sticks to you like a crazy witch.
Sometimes when you see others laughing around, having ‘fun’ you wonder what is it that you are doing wrong? Why is it that you cannot be like them? Why is it that just like everyone you cannot have ‘fun’?
You start to think if there is something that is defective in you/about you, as unlike others you are just not able to be happy or avoid the torture of being alone. If people can find people, if people can be having a good time being with people why is it that you are the exception.
Some time back I realised that this is not true. We try to be a part of the crowd, surrounded by people but we are actually nothing other than islands of our own. All of us clones of each other or rather lonely clones of our lonely selves.
Humans of this century talk of bringing countries close, cultures closer but strangely as countries come close and cultures closer, ‘the US’ beings to drift away. Just like the trees who stand next to each other on the sides of the road – looking at each other, breathing each other yet lonely as if they were the sole cactus in a mile long desert.
We the humans seem to have perfected this art of being lonely just like the trees did centuries ago..
