....................................................................................When does solitude become treasonous?
If my solitude were to solidify any further, I would find myself petrified.
To be alone..
It is instinctive for me to rationalize that, if 'it' is true for me, then it must be so for any other, if not, all others. Is it possible for a species to feel alone?
There's been so many times I've heard, "The World is more connected now than ever!" that, it sounds mundane; as if it's something I have been hearing my whole life.
"...Oh, are we now?"
But what is it we connect ourselves to? Is there a face behind that monitor? Or have we become voiceless lyricists typing our minds away within this cyber-saturated epoch? Does the facebook "like", or the response post which took 10 seconds to conceive and deliver hold any significance? From my experience with online media I would say it does. Yet, if anything, that is a most honest testament for what it means to be alone--when even the most superficial forms of contact can hold value.
So then, is this it? The Great Independence my country has promised me? What does such a freedom afford us? And what happens if that independence were to be found unsatisfactory? Does it mean that I--the beholder to the sentiment--am a brat, or, am simply under-utilized? For, if there truly exists a line to separate independence from isolation, I have yet to encounter it. What is it about individuality that we should find so worth cherishing? Is there something about us as individuals that makes us more than just that? Granted, I am unique, though, then again.. we are all unique. But un-unique to all of us is mortality. So however fascinating our lives may be, life itself is exclusive to the immediate impacts we impose. And, hardly difficult to believe, there are cases when the impacts pertaining to living individuals are of greater benefit when they go un-enacted. And whether better off or not without those individuals, the world will go on anyways.
Perhaps the question is not so much 'why we are different?' than it is, 'how can we be different?' It seems, that, in the most fundamental aspects we truly cannot be. Because, beyond the column of cash they may find themselves perched; beneath the crown of corruption they have been adorned, resides a fool whose flesh will rot just like mine.
According to Christopher Nolan, victories, when long endured, may conceal the state of defeat near fruition. Why then, should the victorious sensation not discover me during my day of defeat?
