People like us have managed to convince ourselves that we were meant to be alone. We have isolated ourselves from the rest of humanity, believing that there is no one else like us.

We consider isolation some perverse way of protecting ourselves. Avoiding asking “what are we trying to shield ourselves from?” The paradox of loneliness? The heartbreak that comes with the realization that someone we placed all our faith in was not our ideal, fairytale Saviour in the end?

We make futile attempts to build walls between ourselves and others, when we fear that they will not accept us.

People like us are powerful because we are the best liars; the kind that deceive themselves first. Yet our actions betray us when we reach out, and reach out again for a sign of comfort from the people we have so carefully pushed away. Our dependence is a self-induced disease, from which no one can save us.


7 thoughts on “Solomania

  1. Wow….just what I needed….felt like you knew my story… I always do read your post but this one spoke to me…..I’m grateful I signed up to your blog…..Thank you AKOTOWAA

    Sent from my iPhone


  2. Once you realize hope is the gradient that pursues privilege and entitlement issues, the penetrative genre narratives that an action needs to be proved out of theory, for an audience that feels that they have been elevated to a status that makes them deserve to see a plain human being, assuming the form of a characterless, personality-less, attribute-less individual in the middle of the arena grounds where his travails are said to be done to uplift and motivate, disregarding that persons fight to the point of voiding it and invalidating it, you will soon learn that certainty is doing this completely disillusioned, remaining in the arena until you are done, and when the praise and criticism comes, you will know that it is an obligation that hope requires as a paid service requires currency


  3. hmmm…it gets to the point when we need to telegram our own tears: The pain of solitude is so overwhelming that our emotions are scattered in some Afghan war. The irony is that we are fighting the self and trying to find solace in it. In all this we actually enjoy the surge, gradually becoming saddists if we aren’t already. Damn, I’m a mess.

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