On being Lonely..A Story by Crimson_ishA fatal flaw."Lonely silver pebbles descend from neutral chilling sky,
Whirl of winds consume and exults them, Although they tremble down as lonely spheres, They reach the crust and create, Rivers, and Lakes, and puddles." The human element of "need" As a species we tend to veer ourselves to things that not only attract us but distraught us, we although shiver for a ray of moon or serenity of sun, we are constantly on our knees wanting loneliness. We proclaim that a rush of emotions are necessary to make us "real", it reminds us of our "aliveness". I have often pondered over loneliness when I've been left alone or everyday when I wish to be alone, and I have always wondered what is so enchanting about her, why do I possess the need to carry her everywhere with me? Loneliness, I understood, is more than a need of being alone, it's a wish to be with oneself. In this life of noise, and terror, and superficial sensibilities, loneliness reminds us of authenticity. It's not an excuse for self harm, but it's an emotion of reminiscence, we indulge ourselves in the sublime nature of Gothic, we immerse ourselves in the beauty of darkness, and imagination is sensitized and intensified. We are removed from guilt and enjoy the pleasures inflicted upon our skin. Now loneliness comes in varying degrees, she's a temptress of many forms, and we await each of her forms, yearning. We seek her out in grey skies, within breakups, within an estranged relationship, between fragments of severed threads, and especially within the circles of perfectly healthy relationships. So the question still stays with me, why loneliness glides into my life and enhances my perception of world and transcendental forces? Why should I love her when her hooks are buried deep in past and fears of future? Why should I hate loneliness when every time I bid her farewell she makes me wholesome and I am evolved? Why, why is loneliness always clothed in complexity when her intentions are simple? All I know after 20 years of my life is, Loneliness although is a blade cutting me slowly on the inside, is also the nurse who stitches me together with glorious colours of Roses, and Lilacs, and silver. She harms me and forces me out of freedom, yet in the confinement I meditate and construct roads towards myself. Although loneliness works in paradoxes, she's always been a genuine teacher, and how would I love to be enticed by thee again, O how would I love to be whole again. © 2016 Crimson_ishAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorCrimson_ishAboutA woman in her 20s possessing ardent passion for literature and writing, secretly weaved between the trenches of her fingers are silence, melancholy, turmoil, and curiosity. I believe in universe and .. more..Writing
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