Even in a crowded room, even along a bustling street, I feel alone. I look around and see so many people alone, each one engrossed in his or her own little world and making sure that he or she is socially acceptable in turn. But the true irony is when you realise that this self-consciousness has left no one to judge others. And I like that. This makes my social individualism a reality. Every person in this world is different with a particular personality and a particular mind. You can’t just push someone into the water and ask her to inhale the brine.
I am comfortable alone. It makes me feel alive, “unjudged,” raw somehow. I am scared of any kind of control, even the social control that comes with following illogical rituals and rules to thwart off “danger.” I am alone, but I am not lonely. There is plenty of emptiness in me and that makes me feel light—fluffy, like a well-baked cake, if you will.
I want to be left alone, and I will not be lonely. my shadow provides me the company I need in the raging sun; my mind is a companion to my soul, to soothe it in the cold and dark. They are the only ones who do not judge me for who I am.
I am comfortable alone. It makes me feel alive, “unjudged,” raw somehow. I am scared of any kind of control, even the social control that comes with following illogical rituals and rules to thwart off “danger.” I am alone, but I am not lonely. There is plenty of emptiness in me and that makes me feel light—fluffy, like a well-baked cake, if you will.
I want to be left alone, and I will not be lonely. my shadow provides me the company I need in the raging sun; my mind is a companion to my soul, to soothe it in the cold and dark. They are the only ones who do not judge me for who I am.
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