Who are these people? And are we really bonded to them? Is love only a chemical reaction? Are we all strangers, each dangerous to another in some way? can anyone really understand my loneliness? Maybe there’s something to be said about how exquisite the pain is. I, personally, wouldn’t give it up for the world.
People with good intentions become fixated on conquering your loneliness, a smothering kind of good will masking a power play where they secret hope to become your sole lifeline. But they don’t understand the devastation that ensues when this lifelong companion is taken away. They don’t know that what you really needed was a tether to a safe place when you’ve been set adrift. Can anyone really understand why I cry at night? What wakes me up at 2am feeling the presence of other, heavier spirits around me? What crowds into my head as I walk amongst people and see their individual secret tragedies?
And trust. What is that. How can we expect any kind of trust when we aren’t strong enough to reveal the truth when it matters?
