So often in life, I've found myself angry and resentful and hurting. "Where is everyone? Where is family? Friendship? Family? Anyone who cares?" Internally I'd lament. Scanning photos of tropical vacations, and smiling children, and backyard barbecues on social media, I felt even more alone. "No one cares." There was no communication, no connection, no real live humanity in sight. No presence in anyone's lives. There was the 500 square feet of this studio. The small urine soaked patch of grass just behind the pathway to the elevator. A disinterested stare at Starbucks, from a barista waiting on my order. And the very occasional "hello". Alone.
I wanted to end it. Often. I was suffocating. Alone.
I now lived not only in the same state, but the same city as my brother. Year after year passed. No phone call, no invitation. No interest. Alone.
Surrounded by millions and millions of people. Living in a building with hundreds of people. Living on a floor with dozens of people. Home with a man. Suffering. Alone.
And now that I think about it, it was quite ironically nice of me to not end it out of consideration for all of these people who expressed very nearly zero interest or concern for the state of my life, and hadn't the time or inclination for meaningful connection.
On the other hand, what effort had I made in life to forge meaningful connections in any consistent way?
Not much.
Was it my fault? Theirs? Or more disconcerting, no-one's. Perhaps, beyond personal, individual failings, it reflects a much bigger, more important issue. A microcosm of a widespread systemic failing. A symptom of diseased society, sick with isolation and materialism, confused priorities, and disconnection. A nation of narcissists, clamoring for the spotlight, fishing for likes.
It's an unhealthy, empty trajectory. Relentless selfies won't bring peace.
I wanted to end it. Often. I was suffocating. Alone.
I now lived not only in the same state, but the same city as my brother. Year after year passed. No phone call, no invitation. No interest. Alone.
Surrounded by millions and millions of people. Living in a building with hundreds of people. Living on a floor with dozens of people. Home with a man. Suffering. Alone.
And now that I think about it, it was quite ironically nice of me to not end it out of consideration for all of these people who expressed very nearly zero interest or concern for the state of my life, and hadn't the time or inclination for meaningful connection.
On the other hand, what effort had I made in life to forge meaningful connections in any consistent way?
Not much.
Was it my fault? Theirs? Or more disconcerting, no-one's. Perhaps, beyond personal, individual failings, it reflects a much bigger, more important issue. A microcosm of a widespread systemic failing. A symptom of diseased society, sick with isolation and materialism, confused priorities, and disconnection. A nation of narcissists, clamoring for the spotlight, fishing for likes.
It's an unhealthy, empty trajectory. Relentless selfies won't bring peace.
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