LONELY

LONELINESS CAN CONSUME YOUR VERY BEING, UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THERE'S AN ART TO THE MADNESS.

 THE ART OF LONELINESS

There's a fine art to loneliness.

Mental solitary confinement has a way of wreaking havoc on the senses.

One must have perseverance to survive a lonely day.

The day drags on, and the victim relentlessly pursues each moment with caution.

You see, when you're drenched in a world of suffering and jagged contemplation, you tend to count moments and not hours.

...But the nights are worse, they're always worse.

On a dark night the silence seems to be magnified, overwhelming itself to perfection. A perfect quietness suited for an empty and desolate heart.

It's enough to drive someone mad, that is, if it weren't for the Beauty of it all.

Because amongst all the feelings of desperate sadness and despair, there is a Beautiful and comfortable feeling of satiation and satisfaction.

You were meant to be here. You were meant to suffer with the tears streaming down your tainted face.

The tears are war paint, and you are an Indian masked in a tribal gown of arrested envelopment. A prisoner of war. And it is this suffering that carries you onward to the next day...and the next.

And every day after that.

Your own comfortable regimented prison, with your skin as the bars, and your soul the empty room of imprisonment.

There's an art to being lonely.

Exacted with lots of practice and patience. You've got to spend plenty of time in isolation in order to be a role model. A leader to all the others who may not be alone at the present moment.

But in time we all reach the destination of loneliness.

Not by wanting to or wishing for such a place.

Circumstance drags you, with your nails digging into the ground to resist the punishment.

You must be chosen for punishment by the perils of circumstance.

Oftentimes it is reasons above and beyond your own will that bring you to your destination.

You are essentially particular, meaning you are drowning in loneliness for a reason.

And only "YOU" know why.

You're not crazy by any means.

Oh but your thoughts surely are.

All the repetitious thoughts could command a standing ovation in any mental institution.

So you sit there with a blank expression on your face full of sorrow. Barely moving, with an IQ down to zero, and empty to the core.

And you're waiting...

Simply waiting for all the depression to somehow just magically disappear.

And you grow a new face, and new emotions, and a new attitude.

Yet it doesn't happen, not even a little bit.

Nothing changes except for the day, and the wrenchingly difficult night.

You are caught up in a dark bottomless pit of unhappiness and discouragement.

Lost in your own mind, lost to the city, and lost to those that surround you.

Lost in the riddles of depression, and shackled in the prison of the human mind.

There could be one hundred, one thousand, or one million people around you.

And out of these not a single one could understand.

Yet what you must understand is that EVERYONE of the hundred, of the thousand, and of the million will reach the destination of loneliness at one point or another in their life.

And this makes all the difference in the world, knowing this fact.

It's ironic actually because you honestly feel that no one understands.

Yet in some way or form, they have all been there or will be there eventually.

When someone reaches out a hand to you, and I assure you they will, take it and hold on with all your strength.

Hold on like you've never held before.

Keep holding on and believe that you can make it, escaping from the prison of the mind.

And when you're free remember who lent you a helping hand.

Because one day it may be your own hand that they so desperately need.

You can escape the prison within your own mind.

Study the reasons for your loneliness and everything associated with your sadness.

Learn everything about your own emptiness and depression.

"BECOME ONE WITH THE DISEASE, THAT IS HOW TO BEAT IT."

 And once you escape the landscape of captivity, you learn to appreciate the wonders of life.

I should know because I've been an occasional prisoner all of my life.

I understand your feelings of desolate void.

I care so much that I could cry until I created "An Ocean" of understanding, just for You and I to bathe in and soothe the suffering.

Here, take my hand and let me help you.

One day I just may need yours.

There's a fine art to being lonely.

ALL ALONE.

LOST IN A STORM OF DESPAIR.

CHAINED TO HEAVY THOUGHTS, WEIGHTS HOLDING DOWN MY SANITY.

"PRAY"

"ALL ALONE ON A BRANCH THAT COULD BREAK AT ANY TIME, SOBBING TO DRAIN THE HURT."

 "WELCOME TO MY PRISON."

 "ON THE INSIDE, THIS IS HOW I FEEL."

"LOOKING OUT THROUGH MY OWN SKIN, I CAN SEE HAPPINESS ALL AROUND ME."

 "THE STORM FOLLOWS ME TODAY, AND TOMORROW, AND THE NEXT DAY."

"THE CITY DOESN'T KNOW THE SUFFERING THAT I ENDURE."

 "ENDURE...

HOLD ON WITH ALL YOUR STRENGTH."

 "EVEN THOUGH ALONE, STAY PLANTED WITH THE VERY THOUGHTS THAT PLAGUE YOUR LIVELINESS. IT IS BY BECOMING ONE WITH THESE SAME THOUGHTS THAT YOU WILL ESCAPE TO FREEDOM."

 "LISTEN TO YOUR ROOTS."