Loneliness. Heartache. Desolation. Withdrawal. Call it what you will, but we all bare this burden at one point or other. There's no avoiding it. It's inevitably relentless. At times, it is insatiable. At times, it is too heavy to bare and yet, one must bare it alone. At times it is the least expected emotion, and other times, it is all too familiar. I'm beginning to see just how lonely I am. Whether I'm paired off with someone special or not I am always lonely.
I've walked a thousand midnight walks accompanied by millions of scrambled thoughts...and have sought out pieces of myself that I've left somewhere when I was happier, stronger, calmer and sweeter. And on each of those walks I'd hoped to discover I belonged there. That I belonged anywhere. Instead, everywhere I am and everything I do feels like I'm a distorted shape trying to squeeze into a square, trying to fit perfectly, to fit nested, to fit... period. Mind you, I don't try to fit in. I'm aware I'm wildly outspoken and this sends some people in the other direction. This is not what I mean by feeling I don't belong. This sensation is an inner battle. I try to find who I am in all the wrong places. In lovers, in friends, in activities, in media and fashion. I rarely stop and ask myself: If you stopped looking, what would you be left with? And the answer would be: myself. I would be left with the core of me, the true self.
Perhaps this post is meaningless and narcissistic. But I hope someone understands what I'm trying to convey here. I've never been very good at upholding my identity because my sense of self wavers so easily under times of distress. I've always believed that it is under extraordinary circumstances that a person's true character is tested and revealed. Maybe I'm built of weak character...though I don't believe that to be the case. Regardless of my foundation, I know I've got to gut it and make something of it. Something completely my own so that in the future I know what I'm made of.