Some time ago I made a smart comment on the difference between being alone versus being in solitude. Much as I would love to think that I was in solitude, that made me forsake all writing fora; the reality has something else to say.
First off, being in solitude does not mean you forsake what you love. Which is exactly what I have been guilty of: no reflection, no poems and no building on my first novel to be finished soon. No much as an optimistic thought. Then, who would I share it with?
Instead, I was overcome with insecurities and incapabilities. Miserable and testy. Without any indulging. It’s one of those rare moments I think my angel has lost all power; which is my doing. Yes, I do right by being kind and mostly thinking kind thoughts. But the truth is, this is not enough. No joy in what I call my everyday accomplishments that go towards the greatest good; of love for all and forgiveness.
Too, I surround myself with people and at the same time it eats at me that these are superficial relationships; as none understands me or none is without any prejudice toward me. Yes, I am prone to paranoia, it’s escalated these past few weeks.
I don’t feel confident in expressing my emotions. Then I remember that in this forum I can help and by writing, I am helped.
With dreams of being in danger with no one to call. I mean, even my dreams have something to say. Am I destined to be alone? I must be. I refuse to even consider that I alienate people as the alternative. I am too attention- starved, in my own way for that.
So, that’s all that’s been happening. I am exhausted and overwhelmed; and myself, with whom I am normally honest, I am denying. Don’t know where this is taking me.
Know am not the only one who feels like this.Don’t have a lot of words anymore. It’s dedication to my passion that create these words.