The danger of a lone being.

The scariest part of being alone is not the loneliness

The scariest part of being alone is not the loneliness.

It’s the forceful necessity to have only yourself to count on and deal with, in every situation, through every cognition and emotion, during every smile or teardrop, and every breath that falls too heavily.

While part of you suffers from urges to end all existence & an equally desperate part is looking anxiously to find purpose, still. Those being only two minor examples of the thousands and thousands of scattered pieces of self that constantly reflect and contradict one another.

It’s easy to get lost inside the mazes of your own heart and mind intertwined, when your soul feels trapped and the only way out is out of or through yourself. But what if there’s nothing, no one, outside of yourself to reach out to? Nobody you can truly trust, nobody to have meaningful interaction, nobody to share or exchange ideas and thoughts with, nobody to empathize or care with you.

I don’t claim to need anyone, but I don’t believe any person is capable of carrying their entire life by themselves one hundred percent of the time.
Of course, essentially, in all beginning and ending as well as most of the time in between, we are just ourselves by ourselves. But what becomes of this self, if it is only that connection you have… for days, becoming weeks, turning into months, building up to years. How does one grow out of themselves if all they have as reference, is their self, their own, alone, always…?

How dangerous can you become, by yourself, before interference becomes obvious? Who is to draw the line, but yourself, turning the whole thing into pure rhetorical irony?

To take it a little further, because why not? Or actually, because why not.
Who will then, when the line is drawn and interference becomes inevitable, be the one to step in between and flip the switch? Which switch would flipping become to have the mostly preferred result? What is this result supposed to be looking alike?

Who decides all this, or anything, the self that chose to become dangerous just because its possibility was an endless option, or the one who found cautiousness significant enough to inquire for change, or any of the other infinite varieties of self that have potential to be puzzled together from all the scattered pieces alone?

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Part of a Life

found on pinterestimage found on pinterest


I often go for walks outside by myself. Sit nearby the water and watch the sun play its shine on the ripples, painting its art on the moving surface. For me to just tune out of my own life and zone in the world around me.

During those walks, I run into all kinds of people. Some going for a walk just as me, with their partner, family, friends, or alone, walking their dog or going for a jog.

Then sometimes I see people walking, of whom I get the idea, that this is the first time they resurfaced to the real world again, after a period of solitary hibernation. Maybe because I can identify, maybe it’s just personal projection and recognition, maybe not.

They seem anxious in both an excited and fearful way, super self conscious and clearly exploring the outside beyond their bubble, as if just fallen from the nest. They are not together, not composed, not centered.
Not at all that I claim to be any one of those things, but perhaps from my own experience in that situation, I recognize these restless beings roaming for another purpose, seeking the restfulness, aiming for that point where their life will tilt back over to a more positive direction.
They are not walking away from their responsibilities, they are again meeting the reality beyond themselves and reaching back to the notion of better times ahead.

I am, seemingly more than others, aware of my surroundings, but not only that. I like to see people. Not just look at them, or observe and judge, place them in the proper position of my mental picture, but see them and their story behind the posture.
There is a name for this: sonder. The awareness that every soul you come across has a whole universe hidden behind their daily facade. A whole life of ups & downs, of cries, screams, tears, smiles, heartaches, disease, sorrow, loss, love, hurt, intentions, desires, mistakes, fantasies, knowledge, wisdom, emotions.

It’s fascinating to me, not only to see and think about, analyse and even feel it in their presence. But alone the thought, that I, as an outsider to them, will never be part of theirs as they will never be of mine.
Although it could be.. when worlds collide, split open and intervene with each other. On a daily basis, it doesn’t always happen like that, though. We sit and stare, as do they. We observe and care, maybe also on their part. But we will never know.. For the simple reason that I prefer to respect people in their being, as I would appreciate the same from their side.

While sometimes.. it is so pleasant to meet, someone who has maybe the same empathic feelers, to see and notice my little bubble, but they are in touch deeply enough with a realization that peeking through that bubble, will first of all not break my bubble, nor will it break or bother me.
Sometimes I just sit in my happy pensive solitude, observing the reality of reality and the reality of other’s reality, and then there is just this one friendly man, walking his old yet playful dog, and he asks me with sincere interest: “how is your game going?”, meaning my obsessive preoccupation and busy typing on my phone. I look up, take my earphones out, my sunglasses off, smile at him and tell him: “I’m not playing a game, I’m writing..” …BOOM… Worlds have collided, bubbles burst open, a conversation has commenced. Just like that.

We may live alone, but we are never alone. No matter how we enjoy and cherish our solitude, knowing others still find us worthy for their interest or might just need to connect with someone to break through their own solitude, is such a rewarding feeling of being alive : )
Being part of a life, not just my own.

A Letter to Purpose.

Hello Purpose, remember me ?

I first met you over a dozen years ago, an insignificant while before my childhood froze into wintertime. As that ice sculpture still remains, other seasons thoroughly overwhelmed and interrogated the rest of my belongings. In reflection to what I may have lost or gained during the lengthy depths of travels through these times and spaces, I could find no reason to resist a recollection, specificly of our distinct familiarity within the wide spectrum of all supposed acknowledgments.

I have no pretense to claim in presuming that you might be inclined with this same sensation, but I feel strongly dysphoric about the unforseen and somewhat reluctantly imposed seperation that fell upon our amity so unfortunately. Who is to blame, perhaps, if blame is entitled to posture in this particular affair, I will not be the one to judge.

Because our acquaintance was of fairly short duration, and therefore qualifying merely as vague and faintly unconscious, it received never a chance to be or become more deeply intensified. This to my most sincere regretfulness, as our former interactions held so much promise within their potentials. In spite of this endurance of unawareness on both ends, I know there is still a mutual understanding of how it used to be and possible a slightly more sufficient and respectful comprehension of how it could be, to begin with.

These apparant visions I gave focus on sharing with you, for us to plausibly reunite in any of the nearest by of futures, in absence of any sense of expectant coercion, are faithfully substantiated and hopefully witnessed within the care of this letter.

Hereby, I salute you, hence seeking eagerly forward to, if residing in good fortunes, an equally heartfelt response.

Forever Faithful & Patiently Awaiting,
a previous possessor of Purpose.

Clarity

clear as water
shimmers of green
seconds of teardrops
shapes of sand unseen
paradise at fingertips
bliss of air around the lips
it feels like I belong here
I don’t ever want to go back
to where I came and fled from
where I have nothing to become
or maybe I just favor the escape
of any place would be okay
as long as it doesn’t cause to make
me fear the same faith
in what I don’t want to believe
need dearly
but too ignorant to receive
as it seems
clearly

I revolve in similar patterns
endlessly over and over
like the earth spins around its waist
all I could be goes to waste
in being too stubborn to make mistakes
so that it actually turns to be that case
I’m stuck in a fase
of not wanting to take
responsibility for what I break
and those thoughts I have lately
of what will await me
when I go back to where I started
reloaded but still abandoned
revived but broken hearted

is there ever any end to this ?
how did it ever come to this ?
at what point
..which second
..what moment
did it all turn around ?
turned against me
pointing down

is it inevitable ?
is this just a rough patch ?
should I just adjust ?
make the best of what becomes less
hold my breath and swim on
pretend I won’t drown
if I don’t hear the sound
of the waves filling my face
draining my body

to the bottoms of decay
covered with bottomless clay
senseless to pray
because God never may
know of this weakness
no one should in any way
all because of pride
or care for protection
so in contradictions we collide
with ourself aiming for perfection

and I still feel like I have
no soul, no heart, no purpose
embracing what is nothingness
could have made it hurt less
respecting the fallacies
of being my own worst enemy
might just get me closer to myself
to not fight but conspire
with my other half
the moon isn’t ever really full
without her darkside by her
against any reason or rule

Only Hope.

So many losses
Remembering the hurt
I don’t know how to recognize myself
Memories covered up in dirt
I have no feeling left
It all fell apart
My soul is drowning in this deep liquid
Bleeding out my heart
I peel of my skin like a furr coat
There is more emptiness underneath
Every layer is all the same
It never comes together in any sense

No reason, no purpose
No goal and no mercy
Unresponsive to relativity
Intolerant to patience
Rebellious towards gravity
Ignorant yet persuasive

It’s like a never ending story
But in lack of beginning
Now that I’m in it
I can not get out
It revolves around me
Like a bubble of soap
Incomprehensive water
Collecting and kept in captivity
Disobediant but servile
Destructing freedom for felicity
There is no safety
Only hope.

Mystery to me

Purple skies and lightning striking remind me of why I met you
You luminate my mind and soften my heart with all that you are
My senses are covered by your sweetness through whatever I fall into
When I’m in your presence and you shine over me like my very own star

Being alive never felt so purposed and meaningful
Being aware was never before so necessary for me
Being fearless causes me to enjoy how I’m free to fall
Being honest and open makes it all so effortless to see

I’ve never in my life believed so truly in one essence
Because of that I feel justified in knowing that it’s real
I preciously cherish each and every of your lessons
You are to me a mystery awaiting for me to reveal

No Name

All I hear are my own footsteps, as I’m walking alone, thinking to find him in these empty streets. He doesn’t have a name, he doesn’t need one. Any name would only compromise his clarity, undo his figure.
I’ve only seen him a few times now. First I thought he was just a figment of my imaginative dreams. I found out he was real, when I saw him doing something which dreams are unable to do: appearing in my wake reality.
From then on I was amazed by this appearance, knowing it to feed my desire to connect with him on some level of resemblance. I used to watch him from a far, and cling to those brief moments, to then later on imagine what kind of person he could be, what kind of thoughts we might share, what kind of things he does in life, what kind of purpose he has been chasing.

One day I saw him in those empty streets, and for a short single second, I could swear, he glanced back at me ..for a moment.
For an instant we locked and connected and a rush of crushing waves flew through my body. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.
Locked away in a prison of my own makings, bars built of cognition, walls of emotional intellect. That is how I remain after I’ve been with or around him. It feels as though he tries to reach out to me, in attempt to gain access, seeking my response. Whenever he moves, it seems towards me. Whenever he speaks, it might be for my ears to hear. His eyes made to register my presence, every movement, any visible appearance. His hands designed to hold me in an embrace of sustaining grace.

Knowing whether it should be like that, I never will.
But faith does certain things to people. Faith which descended from my observation, the plausible interaction, our relation. Though not to be mistaken with ‘relationship’. Any bound or connection, even that which exist only from frequency or contiguity, can be called or referred to as a relation. Only thing necessary to construct a relation is at least one common factor, one feature that is alike.

As cause and consequence follow each other up like shackles of the same chain, so do we repeatedly approximate one another by time or distance. Like leafs in a twirl of spinning wind, we keep each other in eternal rotation. An endless game to play.