The Embodiment of Being Alone
I have had writers block for quite a while now, seemingly nothing has worked to put words to pages. At least I have my wit, right? But then I sat, and I thought, I really thought about what makes us happy. What as human beings, truly makes us happy. Not like a temporary happiness, but a fulfilling happiness. What makes us happy? How do you know what really makes you happy? I am tremendously good at faking being happy so that I do not draw concern to others, shit even to myself sometimes. I binge watch romance movies, knowing that the shit only happens in the movies. I sit on my couch and let my head grow with ideas of love and bliss, only to come back to reality and realize how alone I really am. Then I have my “ ahah ” moment and I am like, “I am pretty good at being alone.” But how would I know what that is, if I have never really been alone? I have felt alone, damned by myself, feeling this self-pity that I am sure no one has ever felt. If ...