Wednesday, 30 July 2014

Table For One, Please!

We must realize and accept, in full honesty and sensory awareness, that having friends in no way translates into a guarantee of zero-lonely-hours and/or a definite shoulder to cry on.
Sometimes, your friends are simply mute spectators to the game that you play, alone, with your own life and your own demons/ghosts. They watch and observe, taking silent notes that they shall undeniably use on you in your next conversation about the world and its bizarre ways, catching you off guard, touching a very visceral part of your being because you shall suddenly realize, when you least expect it, that you were always being watched and there were always pairs of watchful eyes keeping a check on you.
But despite the knowledge of this fact, I must make note of the sudden realization that I have had over the past few months. No one owns anybody. It's not a relay race that we're all running, with teammates and someone to fall back on if you don't run fast enough. We run alone.
You don't have an audience for your performances on a daily basis. Sometimes you must applaud yourself because you deserve the applause. Acceptance of your sense of singularity is essential to growth, even if it means having a meal by yourself at a restaurant without holding up shields such as cell phones and magazines to lie to the world about how alone you truly are.
It's time that we abandon excuses, hold our heads up high, raising them from the pool of shame that we pissed out ourselves; because being alone isn't always an implication of failure, inept social skills, an unattractive personality or a sordid circumstance.

C'est la vie, mon ami!

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