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oh, whAt a joy it is to feel lonEly, to wade through the quiet and search for a way out. i walk the beaCh, take the long way home, stretch time so my roOm stays empty a little longer. i sit on benChes, watch strangers paSs, ask the barista about their daY, the elderly man about his doG whom i see every day. i speAk to those beside me on the metro, stealing mOments, borrowing warmth, as if a few seConds of their time could soften the weight of mine.
when you’re loNely long enough, you learn to find peAce in the noise—the rhythM of streets, the choreographed steps of commuters, the birds scribbling shaPes across the sky. you notice the collage of patched pavEments. this city is so loud — i am still leaRning how to be alOne.
Feb 22, 2025
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I’m alone. I’m alone forever. I am the loneliest person to ever exist. I gave myself that title. Sometimes I wear it proudly. Sometimes it breaks my heart. I am missing something and I don’t know what it is. Maybe I never will. I am looking for something that takes my breath away.
Feb 4, 2024
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Loneliness prevails! I would much rather live purely in solitude for ever and ever than waste another precious second in the presence of someone who has little skin in the game of knowing me or seeing me. Hearing me! I wonder why you keep me around if all your hearts desire is to hear the sound of your own voice.
It makes no difference if it’s me or anyone for that matter.
For all you know or even care I am merely an ottoman for you to rest your feet on, or a coffee table meant simply to pedestal your various notebook scrawlings and half-read books. I am a file cabinet. I have it here, dated, what you Thought and what you felt about work, or about your friends. ask me, I have it all.
And I loved it. I loved knowing you. I wanted to. I investigated and interrogated. I poured over it all with great curiosity, praying for all my red threads to weave a tapestry of you.
but I can’t remember the last time you asked me something about myself. When the opportunity arises, and god forbid, I Take it, you can barely hold your breath. Its like a shark sensing blood. You just can’t wait to talk talk talk talk talk.
But hey, it’s your life, and baby, I’m just living in it.
Dec 10, 2024
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I have many Ideas. I ponder over them like an obsessive collector; organizing, re-organizing, packing them into words so the meaning is captured, transferable. Most of my transformative experiences are unexplainable - how does one capture the depth of a still, silent night? The whispering of leaves in warm summer breezes. Vague feelings of wholism while sitting in the grass, photosynthesizing like plant ancestors - a fish swims without direction. Many call it god but the church is alienating; the word massacred and butchered beyond the recognition of what it once meant.
One idea I have kept unmolested by the opinions of others, is that these holistic experiences in nature, with friends, live music shows, where the pulse of life beats strongly, are everything. An anchor point for a life well lived. It’s not enough to just be in nature, alchemizing the circumstance missing the key ingredient. A couple of friends and I went on a trip to where the ocean went on forever, unbroken horizon. We were down by the water, sunset and glistening, warmth of the sun and sand beneath my feet. But it was nothing more than looking. I did not have access to this other way of being - locked out, truthfully, by being eaten alive by the stress of exams and stewing in the feelings of being unlovable. It is somehow within you; the trees and ocean reflect it back to me. A quality of self brought out by sincerity and solitude. It’s everything, reflected in everything worthwhile.
Apr 17, 2024
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Feb 24, 2025
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Feb 26, 2025
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the city moves in paTterns.
an unspoken choreography unfolding at every stAtion / every street crossing / every reVolving door. at first glance it is chaos - a flood of bodies surging forWard / retreating / shifting direction with abrupt precIsion. but watch closely and you will see the shapes scribbled by the crowd / the invisible calligraphy traced by hurried footsteps and quiet hesItations.
in the metro - the rhythm is unmistAkable. the doors slide open and the wave beGins. a forward motion / urgent but practiced / an unspoken agreement between stranGers. some step aside with the grace of seasoNed performers. letting others pass in seamless succession. others hesitate. caught for a moment between movement and stillness before being pulled into the tide.
on escalators - bodies align in a pattern dictated by efficIency. one side still. the other in motion. a moving stairway of impatiEnce and pause.
at crossings - the rhythm breaks for a moment. the crowd pooling at the edge of the street like ink waiting to spRead. and then - the light changes and the city exhales. a hundred figUres spill forward. some fast. some slow.
Feb 23, 2025