Life is lonely
underneath a hard, chitinous shell
. But the world is a
place. Safety in solitude. "Alone is strong." Is that
different than "in unity, there is strength"?
"When happiness is in the house, sadness is at the door." I have found
that this is a truth, but I have also found that it doesn't work the
other way around. Sometimes the sadness overstays its welcome. Today
is one of those days. Infinite complexity tires me.
What were those thoughts I was thinking as I lay upon my rumpled
excuse for a bed on the floor, in my endlessly cluttered, shuttered,
locked, horrendous room? I lost them, so whether or not they were
important, they're gone. I'm glad, because they were terrible. I enjoy
terrifying visions while I'm awake, even while I drive or write, and
the usual parallel universe in my infrequent sound sleep. That used to
be the other way around. I used to have a lot of nightmares.
And at this moment, silent and almost completely isolated from every
other aspect of society, I waver in bitterness and wretched
indecision, unsure of what's coming and whether I can stop it. I
walked outside in the afternoon, and suddenly I was a stranger in a
strange land. I don't belong here, any more than I used to. This is
alienation. This is a twisted peace. This may be a path to more of
always, or to insanity. And I've never mocked a good person.
The world is still a dangerous place. Alone is strong isn't even
our proverb. Grief can be beautiful, and you're not here.