My loneliness is my own and I have chosen to share it with no one. Even if I wanted to I probably wouldn’t find someone to share my truths with, my innermost thoughts and obscure feelings.
Maybe one day I’ll meet some one who gets me to coherently spill my thoughts.
I find my thoughts about loss disturbing. To come to the conclusion that both Father and Mother have left this living world, leaving me at this age of mine, slightly clueless and half world weary, desiring guidance yet not trusting.
What is this world I sometimes ask myself, that we must be faced with tragedy and disappointments, living so that we can be judged and judge others, society formed to place us within confines of ‘deemed acceptability’.
Hope decides. Hope is what gives and takes, it isn’t universally profitable to all except it is shared by all yet hardly do we unanimously share hope. Hope is convenient not universal.
I hope my business is successful but my competitors hope they do as well. Religious people hope they are right about the after life but I honestly don’t give a shit right now. Heaven or hell, at least it’s either eternal damnation or eternal celebration, no deaths or disappointments. The expectations will not rise or fall but rather through time or eternity as has been pronounced will expected to stay the same; burn or bubble.
If you’re interested in reading any of this you probably don’t want to fry. You care terribly about fire but what’s there exactly to burn? If I burn it won’t be my flesh, it would be my soul they said. A soul I’m not sure I care for so much.
Where eternity lies for me is not the concern now, it is this quagmire of life, these endless questions of death and loss, this constant push for the perishable and non-permanent. My eternity matters little when my mind wanders. What haunts me now is this emptiness, this assured emptiness that I have been bestowed with.
My nights no longer promise rest, just questions and more questions. I am weary but stubborn, where that fire rises from I have no idea, it just burns within, one of the many things that urge me on (or is it). I simply know each day I fight, I tell myself maybe it’ll all end with answers but answers won’t bring contentment.
Answers won’t bring missed memories or experiences that would have been. Loved ones who have since left us. Answers won’t bring them back.
Hence I simply exist.