Curious thing, longing. It slips in wearing polished shoes, never announcing itself until it has become inconvenient. Shouldn’t we smile at those still yearning for acknowledgement, striving for connection? We all walk alone, my friend, from arrival to the end that we so desperately push back and back and back. Until we don't. One may master conversations, bargains, the art of presenting one's own self, yet even those standing the truest remain forever untranslated to their fellow men. Imagine that! To be heard by everyone and understood by no one. It's a fate shared among sinners and maybe even those above, but only very few dare to embrace. And even this peculiar group might waver from time to time.
Still, what a dreadful little privilege it is to admire this noisy world from the edges of your perception. Do keep laughing, won't you? It’s such a pretty sound in the silence.
~ A.
