Thank you for mentioning that—yes, people out there are quite lonely nowadays, and some are so lonely they have even taken up the task of running the numbers on it. Now that’s lonely—should we send someone to check on those folks, perhaps?
The numbers. Essentially, the kids aren’t drinking; they aren’t screwing, and most single adults are either completely disinterested in the disaster scene that is dating or completely clueless on how to get a mate. Nobody is getting along; modern dating has the charm of a disposable cutlery set. Relationships last as long as the paper plates on which they cut! Heaven’s….
Loneliness, yes. It’s as though staring at a screen for 12 hours a day somehow makes people less likable, less approachable, and less able to withstand or initiate contact with others. But everybody knows this; everybody acknowledges this. And surely we have learned our lesson: to slow down on tech and act and think responsibly. Or, perhaps, fully indulge in automated everything, including robots, apparently, everywhere. Sometimes we just zig when we ought to zag, as a species—don’t you just hate it when that happens?
I have been lonely. Once upon a time. Even recently. It’s actually cold. I mean, it gives me the body chills at times. That loft in Los Angeles, just me and the vermin! My apartment on Page Street, after heartbreak struck me in the gullet, down and out in San Francisco! Being alone has given my body the chills, yes, but I have also been married—the day in and day out of that gives me the chills, too.
And yes, I still believe in marriage. I just equally believe in parting ways, cutting ties, and hitting the road—I believe in marriage, and by god, I also believe in D-I-V-O-R-C-E. Love has a way of expiring; some don’t notice until the mold sets in. Some dash for the door at the first sign of ecchymosis…
Well, I don’t mind saying it aloud. I like being alone. It is my favorite state of being at the moment. Me at my most happy, my most elated, is when I am putting the key to the lock, turning the knob, and entering my own abode—which will be dark and quiet. Closing the door, the world behind me is one of the greatest gifts to man—absolute fucking solitude.
It’s not a pandemic; it's euphoric…
I love returning home to myself, so much so, I am even capable of coming home, getting comfortable, and then hastily leaving for a quick stroll, just to experience walking back home, entering again, etc., and closing the door behind me…
And That’s life! That’s what all the people say…
Solitude–the only true mother of invention. Solitude is where the hard battles are always won, and why I must return to solitude, long bouts of it, to remain sane. There are many kinds of people, but one distinction worth observing is between the people who can more or less get along with themselves and the people who can’t.
The self is at war now more than ever. The self is not just part of humanity, but is humanity. And like anything that is part of the whole, the self is soluble within its surroundings. You are your surroundings. The self is—well, what I mean to say is, learn to be alone, learn to be with yourself, or get swallowed up, eaten alive, absorbed by the circus that is our glowing humanity. It may be the gifts that are given by solitude to forge the character that one day may lead us all from hell.
Solitude–the art of being alone and loving it. The art of curating your pace, your tempo, your mindset. To be alone is to learn to self-regulate, to become self-reliant. It is not out of some dislike for people that I require my solitude. Solitude is necessary, I aim to get across; necessary for all of us. If we can only be more intentional with our loneliness, more directed and productive inside our isolation, then we could possibly seize an opportunity of personal riches.
The times I have spent in solitude in my life are precious. And it is a precious gift that everyone deserves. I hope everyone gets the chance to be with themselves in this lifetime. For a good long while. And when we get back among a crowd, or with family, we find how much more generous we can be. Time and money and even people–they have become fillers. But like any well-designed abode, these spaces are to be used, not filled. Strategically, not gluttonously.
The modern human requires a psychological diet. A respite from the bombardment of our times.
Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.