Lif/ve Alone

I believe a lot of people refuse to realize the ugliness of life that is lived alone – an ugliness that is found inside each one of us, because as we grow older we are forced to come to terms with the solitude of our thoughts. There are emotions that people can sympathize with us about but refuse to; there are circumstances they’ve suffered from that are similar to ours, and still they refuse to grant understanding to the ones currently suffering. We are selfish in a way that it turns us into monsters…monsters that scare others and harm only ourselves.

The greatest damage is to the monster, and so I try my best to put myself in everybody’s shoes, try my best to find the good in the bad, try my best not to identify each scowl and each curse as an assault to me. But how far should understanding go? And how long should patience stretch before selflessness can turn into stupidity? I can’t do the math; I’m not sure there’s any.

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