I am a lonely person. I wasn’t always this way, but I’ve had a foot in the door for a long time. When I embarked on this journey to solve the struggles of depression my loneliness increased tenfold. I stepped completely through the door and began exploring a foreign territory within. I was timid at first, never letting my vision stray far from the exit, but eventually I let go and disappeared within. That was four and a half years ago. Since then I have been exploring this world alone. Disconnected from others, but obsessed with life. During the first years I became utterly fascinated with the complexity and depth of reality. How I had never noticed it before is mind-boggling, but then I observe other’s and see the same gap in understanding. We are blinded by something in our mind and when you remove it you can never go back.
The primary issue that caused me to separate from others was a decision: I could socialize or I could explore. I was born an explorer and so the choice was easy especially since socialization had become almost unbearably dull by comparison. As a philosopher and explorer my work demands loneliness. Seeking higher awareness, carefully observing others, and reflecting on the experience requires isolation. People are distracting. Even when I’m with my friends it’s a partial engagement because their words and insights often cloud the experience around us. The sacrifice then is a trade-off you’ll have to reconcile: relationships or understanding? It’s not an easy path and requires you to face the unknown. To step into the darkness and destroy yourself. Choices I believe no sane person would normally entertain, but when depression awaits your return, the decision seems easier.
The result of this experiment has been further disconnection. I find myself a shadow in the world: separate, unique, and lonely. I stare through people and pass-by as if they didn’t exist. I have found them to be woefully uninteresting and insignificant to such a degree that they are like mere objects in the world. Creatures too consumed by their own precious thoughts to notice the beauty and depth of reality. And so I feel different. Wildly so. I will admit however that past desires blur the line between fact and fiction. I cannot tell whether I have constructed this illusion or whether it really exists.
What’s strange though is that the fear of loneliness is dissolving. For a time I considered it an objective consequence of this lifestyle. A punishment for my lack of integration. But lately I’ve circled back around and questioned whether it needs to be this way. I am friendly, open and honest, passionate, and caring. I have carefully selected principles. I am well educated and interesting. I contribute to the community. Perhaps what I’ve gained is well worth the loneliness. Perhaps I can be a good person who embraces a lonely lifestyle. If I truly gain little from the presence of others, maybe the world and what it offers is my only companion. I have been programmed to fear loneliness. I have been shown a healthy, normal lifestyle, and yet that lifestyle caused me to suffer immensely. I know I have undoubtedly disappointed some people in my life and yet I cannot steer my gaze in any other direction. I must walk these streets alone. I must ignore the safeguards of society for the uncertainty of this knowledge. I must cultivate and explore what it has to offer. I cannot turn away. I cannot go back. But I can be confidently lonely.