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At one point, when you've lived long enough, you learn to live with solitude. Then you learn that nothing else exists but. You may learn to share your life with someone but essentially, you would still be alone.
The difference of consciousness, which is reflected by intention and values, is enough to earn your solitude.
You can be in a crowded room with friends and yet still be alone. You can find someone who is like you, but isn't, really. You talk to her until there is none left to talk about and then you are alone again and that someone would be back to being someone else.
I cry because the world is laughing
I shed the tears deep within
They do not see it
they carry on
These happy faces
All unwittingly involved in
the conspiracy of my
SOLITUDE
And I have thought of whether
I should tell them
Or of whether
They should know
But these happy faces
Are all but unwittingly involved in
the conspiracy of my SOLITUDE
What happens when the 'now' is over? What would I be left with? These people of the present, do I dare call them friends? Perhaps I shall remember them forever. Perhaps because I have nothing and no one else to remember.
I have changed lives, haven't I? But these changes are barely recognizable, barely worth a strand of memory.
So if I should carry on like this, for forty more years, barely living, barely dying, I would sooner or later ask myself why I did not dare make myself worth remembering. In fact, even now, why haven't I?
In this insignificant existence, I have felt more secure, I want to believe. Perhaps it is because when I am unknown and the world is unknowable, I stand only for myself and then it is safe. But what of tomorrow when the nights should grow cold and the strong breeze batters me and I should want to breakdown with no one to see me shattered? Who shall remember that last effort until defeat?
Why is it that it is much, much lonelier when you are alone in a nearly deserted coffee house, watching the few people move uncaringly, than when you are alone in bed, left to wander in your own thoughts?
It is in fact, lonelier to feel alone when you are with someone,
than when you're alone with no one.
When it comes down to it, the loneliness is bourne out of insignificant existence.
If you begin to live as no one, insignificant and indifferent,
Could you still die?
I think not.
posted by The Lonely Joker who stares too deeply & too much at 9:01 AM
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