11-10-21
It’s a funny feeling really. Being alone. You have a choice at first. You can choose to sit and be lonely or you can choose to ‘soul search’ or some propaganda bullshit like that. ‘Being alone is the only way to find yourself,’ they say. I’m sure they are talking about some sort of self-induced isolation like going hiking in the woods for a week or some shit like that. The act of being alone, I do feel would be beneficial. The sort of alone they don’t romanticize as self-care is when you are alone surrounded by people. Not self-induced, well I guess that’s not always the truth, but forced loneliness nonetheless. The type of loneliness where your brain turns into a desolate void of ongoing nothingness. You might run, but it never seems to end so you tire out, sit down on the damp black ground and begin to cry. Despite their only being dark and you, there still seems to be a feeling that you are shrinking or maybe the void is growing. Who knows. As you feel yourself about to drown in the dampness of the darkening void you wonder if this is your fault. If someone will come for you with a flashlight and tissues. No one ever comes, but you still wonder and hope. Mostly because over time your eyes start to make out approaching figures. They can’t stand not being useful. Kind of like you, just sitting there waiting to be saved. A pathetic life you live in that void. People sometimes live there for years. The false but hopeful figures allowed them to make it out. Then who brought light? Well as it turns out those false figures were never false. Years of watching weak people enter the expansive black with the purpose of getting you out. How they knew you were in there? Well, there’s really no way of knowing. Maybe the look on your face or the hollowness in your eyes. You can almost see you sitting there all those years, behind your eyes. You just have to be able to see in the dark. The people who are only able to take a step in your new home, well these are not these people. Being ripped into the daylight doesn’t mean darkness won’t reach its claws back into your throat. The night will come. I’ve never really learned how to deal with the darkness. I never know if I’m constantly entering and exiting the void, or if it’s just day and night over and over. Maybe it’s both. Maybe sometimes the night meshes into the void and the void meshes into the day. I guess I’ll never know, but when I do enter the darkness, I shed no tears nor do I wait for the figures. I can now see because my eyes see the truth; the light was there all along.
It’s a funny feeling really. Being alone. You have a choice at first. You can choose to sit and be lonely or you can choose to ‘soul search’ or some other propaganda they spoon-feed us. ‘Being alone is the only way to find yourself,’ they say. I’m sure they are talking about some sort of self-induced isolation like going hiking in the woods for a week or some shit like that. The act of being alone, yes, I do feel that would be beneficial. The sort of alone they don’t romanticize as self-care, however, is when you are alone surrounded by people. Not self-induced, well I guess that’s not always the truth, but forced loneliness nonetheless. Someone is trapped there now. Well someone is always trapped there, but you’ll never be able to know. They look just like us, young, old, beautiful, ugly, it doesn’t matter because, in the end, the void takes whoever it wants.
It’s a funny feeling really. Being alone. You have a choice at first. You can choose to sit and be lonely or you can choose to ‘soul search’ or some propaganda bullshit like that. ‘Being alone is the only way to find yourself,’ they say. I’m sure they are talking about some sort of self-induced isolation like going hiking in the woods for a week or some shit like that. The act of being alone, I do feel would be beneficial. The sort of alone they don’t romanticize as self-care is when you are alone surrounded by people. Not self-induced, well I guess that’s not always the truth, but forced loneliness nonetheless. The type of loneliness where your brain turns into a desolate void of ongoing nothingness. You might run, but it never seems to end so you tire out, sit down on the damp black ground and begin to cry. Despite their only being dark and you, there still seems to be a feeling that you are shrinking or maybe the void is growing. Who knows. As you feel yourself about to drown in the dampness of the darkening void you wonder if this is your fault. If someone will come for you with a flashlight and tissues. No one ever comes, but you still wonder and hope. Mostly because over time your eyes start to make out approaching figures. They can’t stand not being useful. Kind of like you, just sitting there waiting to be saved. A pathetic life you live in that void. People sometimes live there for years. The false but hopeful figures allowed them to make it out. Then who brought light? Well as it turns out those false figures were never false. Years of watching weak people enter the expansive black with the purpose of getting you out. How they knew you were in there? Well, there’s really no way of knowing. Maybe the look on your face or the hollowness in your eyes. You can almost see you sitting there all those years, behind your eyes. You just have to be able to see in the dark. The people who are only able to take a step in your new home, well these are not these people. Being ripped into the daylight doesn’t mean darkness won’t reach its claws back into your throat. The night will come. I’ve never really learned how to deal with the darkness. I never know if I’m constantly entering and exiting the void, or if it’s just day and night over and over. Maybe it’s both. Maybe sometimes the night meshes into the void and the void meshes into the day. I guess I’ll never know, but when I do enter the darkness, I shed no tears nor do I wait for the figures. I can now see because my eyes see the truth; the light was there all along.
It’s a funny feeling really. Being alone. You have a choice at first. You can choose to sit and be lonely or you can choose to ‘soul search’ or some other propaganda they spoon-feed us. ‘Being alone is the only way to find yourself,’ they say. I’m sure they are talking about some sort of self-induced isolation like going hiking in the woods for a week or some shit like that. The act of being alone, yes, I do feel that would be beneficial. The sort of alone they don’t romanticize as self-care, however, is when you are alone surrounded by people. Not self-induced, well I guess that’s not always the truth, but forced loneliness nonetheless. Someone is trapped there now. Well someone is always trapped there, but you’ll never be able to know. They look just like us, young, old, beautiful, ugly, it doesn’t matter because, in the end, the void takes whoever it wants.