Day 325 – Loneliness

Loneliness is on my mind lately. We are all alone in this world. In our bodies, we are alone. Nobody can truly touch you because you are not your body. You are something else, something immaterial, something untouchable. And yet that immaterial thing yearns to be touched, to be seen, to be understood. Writing is an attempt to do this, I think, to create a physical manifestation of  the immaterial, of thoughts, theories, and feelings. The result is usually only a fragmented mess of the actual thing, if you can really call it a thing at all.

Fragments are inelegant. Fragments have gaps. Gaps need to filled. Filled by others and often they are filled with all the wrong things. A strange thing occurs then. You are thought to be seen, but you are not seen. Your clumsy attempt to connect turns into the worst possible alienation. A judgment of unacceptable. The truth inside you is deemed falsehood and your attempts to clarify are met with shaking heads.

Why do we do it? Where does the compulsion come from? Being known is so dangerous. And yet, we writers get up everyday and try again and again.

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. – Soren Kierkegaard

Prompt: Write a scene that heavily relies on subtext.

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