I’m alone.

I have been thinking about a lot of things lately. I am just going to say them.

Humanity is so vast and complicated. There is a deep sadness underlying everything. Every kiss is tinged in sadness, every touch, every hug. People can walk around preaching happiness and laughter but underneath it all is this deep violet blanket of sadness. And when they are alone, and the world dims behind a shut door, this sad reality begins to sink in.

We are all going to die. Some of us might die horrible deaths. Some of us might kill ourselves. I was washing dishes with cold water and staring out at two little boys in the street, kicking a ball around for hours in the cloudy sunshine, and I thought, how could somebody kill themselves?

And when somebody does kill themselves, they spark a tremor in the earth. People are devastated. We have to be kind to each other, they shout, we have to connect, we have to help the lonely people.

But what about the ostracised people? The people who walk around towns wearing a headscarf and feel desolate and lonely because they don’t know anybody, and everybody stares at them with suspicion because they represent a religion so often stamped with the labels of murder and bloodshed. What about the people who look different or act different and are targeted because of it?

It is so strange. I am alone. All my family members are thousands of miles away from me and it feels so strange. I scroll through their photos on my phone and smile at their frozen smiles, my mind is with them at that time and place but my mind doesn’t exactly know where their minds are at that moment. I think technology and the internet has made us come to expect that knowledge will come to us; so we become impatient.

I went out for a walk today and I did not like my town. I did not like the hostility. The stench of alcohol and cigarettes. I look at the drab way people are dressed and the way their bottoms show because their jeans are hiked low, and the way they down can after can of beer, and I think, oh for the days of yore. The days when people dressed modestly and looked like they had dignity.

I bet they didn’t stink.

Then I stopped for a moment and really thought about it. Of course they stank. They didn’t have proper running water. They published articles about showering once a month, and some once a year if they could get away with it. Their streets were piled high with horse manure and urine and flies infested their cities. They drank plenty of alcohol and smoked far more than we do. Their women had to fight to be seen as HUMAN BEINGS in the court room, and were killed trying to demonstrate for a right to vote. A right to freaking VOTE.

They stank and it wasn’t just a physical stench.

Humanity is a thousand shades, and not just black and white. Things are not just right and wrong. There are a thousand clauses in between and reasons and rules and methods and situations and circumstances.

And we just have to plough on through it all and try to keep our heads above water.

Well. I am alone. And I don’t think humans were created to be alone. Adam had a wife called Eve. They had children. Even Adam couldn’t be alone.

I also think one shouldn’t be alone with their thoughts too often. That is dangerous. People need other people.


5 thoughts on “Alone

  1. You’re not alone because you write and I (and many others) read what you write. And I think you believe in writing as a way of not being alone, which is one of the several motivations writers have. But you’re right they we’re alone because the only person inside our head is us. And we’re born and we die alone, but in between we reach out to others and they reach out to us. That combination of alone but together is what gives life its meaning. Thank you for increasing that meaningfulness through your writing -it makes me feel less alone.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for your kind words, and for pointing this out to me. YES, we are all alone in our minds but are alone together. I really didn’t think of it like that. Writing is certainly an escape – I felt the strong need to write today and realised that writing is a way of living through something else, someone else, or through one’s imagination. In a way, writing is magical because you are conjuring up entire lives and thoughts and memories and circumstances. What a wonderful comment, Curtis. You have made my alone day far less lonely 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I think there is an underlying sadness in much of what is going on. But I don’t think it is complete. I think there is genuine joy and appreciation still left in this world. The sadness, it’s there and it’s magnified intensely by the powers of social media. I think it’s always been there, and I think the powers we have within are still there as well. You took this walk, you wrote these words, and your outcome was ‘people need people’. We do. And people respond to that need. It’s built into our makeup. We can’t deny it.

    Liked by 1 person

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