It’s scary how lonely one must feel even in a bustling
crowd. It’s strange how loneliness makes you hear nothing but a piercing
silence even during head-splitting noises. What’s even more hurtful is the kind
of loneliness brought along with the detachment. It’s shattering to miss one’s
own self after detachment from someone so close, so attached with you; they
take pieces of you away with them as they head to the opposite direction. How
disengaging, how disenchanting it is for loneliness to come near to a person.
Even loneliness itself does not want to stay alone thence always finding
someone to get attached to. And oh how devastating it must be for one to feel
lonely even without the detachment? How lonesome it must be for a person to
have someone so near to them yet so far away. How lonely it must get as you
hold your hand out to touch them but feel nothing. It’s the sickening loneliness
that hauls vacant, craved feelings along with it. What would a smile feel like
placing itself one one’s lips but not transferring its effect down to the pits
of their heart? How much time does it require for the happiness to show up in
their eyes? If the eyes don’t smile, is it even safe to say that one is happy?
And to top it all, what if one has no other choice but to
choose the loneliness, the sadness, the isolation for oneself? How much time
would it require to label them with ‘the one who is submissive to pain’ or
maybe a ‘masochist’ if they remain true to their sad feelings? And exactly how
many seconds would it take for the world to label them as a hypocrite if they
choose to plaster their face with exactly opposite to what they feel?
If one could measure the hollowness of views and opinions,
how deep would they go to finally measure the worthless hollow voice that came
out to get listened but never got the required attention?
Living with loneliness is one thing but does the loneliness
also die with us, or does it get worse off afterwards?
