In learning that solitude is no friend to life’s shambles, I’ve learned that I love solitude.
If I walk into a cafe that’s buzzing with action and noise my first instinct will be to do a 180 and walk on out. I want quiet. To let my thoughts roam around and soak in the serenity of a room with a handful of others who love solitude as much as I do.
I’m not always a fan of people. I’m sometimes guilty of hating people. Guilty of blaming them for all of the problems in the world. People are greedy; they’re ignorant. They’re rude, arrogant, egocentric.
I’m wrong. People aren’t the worst thing in the world. My mother is proof of that.
I came across the thoughts of another regarding this. Their thoughts echoed my reflections. That socialization is important. That on the days when I hit a rock so far below, I will need another being to pull me out. I need people. As much as I hate to admit, I need people in my life. Other beating hearts. Other crying, laughing, annoying, wonderful creations to live among. Because my solitude is no more than a comfortable prison.
So there, above my musings, is my attempt at drawing half of my face. It’s a pleasure to place here a rather inaccurate depiction of my smile to help you bridge the gap between my words and my being.
But the smile itself is rather accurate. I actually do smile quite a bit, alhamdulillah.