It's a strange freedom that I have learned, the end of the day when I get into bed alone. The irrelevance of time and space at that moment, and the selfish realization that the only burdens I carry are mine to bear. So much of romance is timed like a two step, repetitive and numbing. To be alone is to dance to your heart's content, until someone else of a like mind dances alongside. There is no compromising yourself to be with a lessening man or begging a woman just to be there with you. It is peak romantic nihilism, and it combined with the expression of your love in more platonic ways is fascinatingly intoxicating. It makes one wonder why we try so hard to please anyone, knowing that sex is a drug we crave more than happiness. Is is that we need each other to be whole, cannot face the crippling depression of loneliness, or perhaps lack a full understanding of love's capacities and uses?
The Missing PieceWe are all flawed. It's what I believe makes us beautiful. It's the fragile balance of our mortality juxtaposed with our insistence on conquering it. Or the persistent challenge to improve upon what is already a living breathing miracle of existence. Throughout time we strive to better ourselves in ways that do not make sense. This isn't a rant against work-outs and makeup, and our superficial being, but rather an indictment of the way we treat our minds and souls (if we want to get spiritual/ethereal about it). Why must we insist on a narrative where we are born broken or at least become broken? A romantic Voldemort with our horcrux living in another person.
It's not just the self-effacement, it's the implication of transferred power that makes such a belief dangerous. Suicides because one decides they cannot live without another's love are an extreme example. In other cases, a couple's insistence on spending time together at expense of their friends or their hobbies is emotionally damaging as well. At worst, instead of the person being what makes one whole, they try to change what makes you fundamentally you. There are few crimes worse than destroying a person's individuality, and I know, because I've been guilty of it many times. It's funny how the butterfly is much more beautiful before you catch it.
This does not preclude the idea of romance, partnership, or marriage, Just the conceptual idea that relationships should eliminate individual freedom. Sacrifice time, money, love to another if you wish, but never sacrifice who you are. Don't change yourself in fear of being alone, because darker and deeper depths lie at the end of compromising yourself.
LonelyBeing alone and lonely are not the same thing. A loner can fully embrace themselves for who they are. They are flawed, yes, but also incredibly strong and fearless. Desiring to be alone does not mean you lack empathy for others or the desire to be loved by others, it rather implies that you are for once happy with who you are in life. At this point, one does not need others to "complete" them. They are whole, and at the same time when entering a relationship, they have no need to leech off of another, or as I like to phrase it "dim their shine." So much of loneliness springs from the resentment that this parasitic behavior condones.
Loneliness is something else altogether. At one point, very unsure of myself, I cut myself off from humanity for a three month period. During this period, I literally forgot to use my voice; I didn't talk to people, laugh, or sing. One could argue this is textbook depression, but I wasn't depressed, I wanted to learn who I was. When I emerged, I was very much as I am today. I learned to work again, and learned how much physical labor eased my mind. I began to talk again, laugh again, and most importantly sing again.
Life without food, dance, music, and laughter is lonely. These things are all better company than any woman I've ever met, but occasionally, as with that occasion, the woman and such beauty may walk hand in hand.
There are sadder forms of loneliness as well. Waking up in a bed with a woman who doesn't love you is one I've felt many times. Realizing the people around you hold others in perpetual contempt gives me the same feeling. I've watched a man across a room grieve his spouse in a way that I can't even comprehend, listening to renditions of their favorite songs, One has no idea how few times I've never had the words, but there I just said my worst condolences and walked away.
I realize now that I never feel lonely when I'm alone. I can walk from place to place and nature embraces me in a way humanity never did. I sit in my car and every song on my phone connects me back to a person or place that I may miss in that moment.
LoveAll this being said I still love and I've loved many wonderful people without regret. Perhaps. it's far worse for me, because I don't enter into such feelings blindly, and I don't feel the need to proclaim them to anyone. It's even worse, because as long as my brain draws power, such feelings do not cease. I love the first person I said the words to, and the last one. Their are nuances to each and I have been a monogamous man for my entire life, but polyamory is the constant state of my brain.
It's changed my mind on what I want from other people. My most positive relationships are non-sexual and I realize that more and more the chase for said relationships makes people incredibly miserable. Instead of being another peg in the rock wall they're climbing, I strive to be the harness protecting them from a fall. In many ways, being very confident in my own abilities and self-worth allows me to be the only person who doesn't need to lie to anyone, who can honestly assess life. In turn, the best people in my life ask me questions that female suitors don't ever think of. They ask me about my family, upbringing, and try to delve further into who I am, rather than ask me where I am headed. These are questions about who am I, rather than who could I be.
I can never express how lucky I was to have two incredible parents to raise me. Everything good or bad about me springs from them. My humor, my work ethic, my incredible patience which precedes my unreasonable temper, and their strange love which is relentless. I think that above all else they wish for all of their children to be happy, so my mother in between bouts with madness will often inquire into my status. She has often gotten lost and insisted I marry a bartender thus combining my Bacchian tendencies towards music and booze with my enduring love for the fairer sex. I have told her many times that I am self-destructive, but that sounds like a death wish. So I think the positive way to end this for them would be to explain that I am always happy. That doesn't mean I can't be sad or angry, or any multitude of emotions. However, I am happy with who I am, so throughout those emotions I remain inside an outrageously content man.
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