Loneliness diary …
Some stories matter more than others
A strange feeling has taken birth inside me lately, quickly growing so powerful that I have forgotten that I had a past before the present.
Life circles around me daily, but barely permeates my soul so that the world “around me” and “inside me” feel disconnected. Increasingly, I spend most of my life within walls, in my home, in my workplace; the same walls that give me shelter, protection and a sense of security but also cage the bird that I used to be. Walls don’t leave you even if you want to leave them: once gone from the real world, they still give space to people to exist in photo frames; photo frames that don’t talk even when you sometimes want them to do so.
These days it takes an immense effort on my part to keep my eyes dry. With whom and how do I share that I am inhaling sorrows more than oxygen? The thirst for belongingness has inflated and now looms over me as a drought, keeps me parched inside and on another occasion, a torrent of emotions sweeps inside me and casts me away.
I write because there are no listeners of my story, maybe because speaking is an art that I have long forgotten or maybe listening is an art that is going extinct; or maybe I repeatedly forget that time is a precious commodity or maybe I have stuffed the same set of ears with my story many times; or maybe … maybe …
I write because a volcano of emotions trapped inside me wants to flow outside, as they burn my core and suck out whatever life is left inside me. I am sometimes surprised how this volcano took birth in the first place; maybe for ages it was dormant and I failed to recognize it. By no means, I want my emotional-lava to harm anyone when it flows outside. Instead, I want it to quietly flow, far and wide, and create a new landmass of thoughts, a new thinking towards how to live life.
I also write because I know there are voices like mine, languishing in the world, who are searching for a voice to represent them; so, I have a duty to fulfil.
I am terrified of the world around me as much as of the one inside me; the two worlds don’t talk to each other. I search for noises around me that can silence the noises banging my head from inside. The rebel inside me now longs for the company of the world that I had left behind. I want life to hug me without any asterisks, and I want to do the same to life too.
I am not alone, and yet feel lonely.
Loneliness is a silent killer. See for signs and symptoms if you or someone dear to you have started to live with it, and kill it before it kills you.
Sharing my story “What one second of life taught me about life?” with you as well.
