I have been thinking about loneliness recently. For some people, it is a constant state. Sometimes it is felt more strongly; sometimes it is diluted a little by life’s events. But it never really leaves. One can live surrounded by people, even loving people, surrounded by affection, and still feel alone.
It is a curious thing, loneliness. Especially when one is an introvert. Add in other mental health issues, like chronic depression and PTSD, and a dash of bipolarity for extra flavor, and the result is painted in shades rarely seen by the human eye.
Your dream is to be left alone, to slip through the world unnoticed, because attention means responsibility. You are not equipped for socializing, let alone for more complex relationships. Those who live like this know that all of one’s energy is spent simply staying alive and functioning.
Isolation. Solitude. I think there is a very big difference between the two. Both can be useful, and both can be harmful.
I often isolate myself in solitude’s name.
But I do not know; it does not work the way I want it to. Solitude does not lead to self-discovery, not anymore. Nor to enhanced creativity, empathy, acceptance, or any other characteristic of an elevated self.
I am not coming to the surface, I am afraid. I am sinking deeper and deeper.
It is a slow-motion death.
