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?