The Age of Loneliness

A famous adage says, “True friends are like stars you don’t always see them but you know they are always there”.   Not to be a cynic but I think that quotes like this should be up for debate, and it probably has.

The truth about friendships is that it is in fact subjective.  It is based on factors such as the frequency of communication,   mutual activities shared, and most especially, the gains of the camaraderie, this could range from wanting a Yes girl/ wingman to needing company because we were in a place we thought we couldn’t escape from till we did. Eventually, that bond came tumbling down the wall of Jericho. Kinda like an endergonic reaction. Albeit, in group settings, the tension be slightly defused—Most times.

Fortunately for me, I have come across wondrous people that embodied the apparent role of love and patience. Unfortunately, I just came across them. For the most part, I have convinced myself that there is only a 7% chance that I have an antisocial disorder, but I can bet that 55% of the time, I understand people and will dissociate myself if ever I sense obscurity.  My problem is I would always rather be myself. I assume that is a fairly adequate reaction to bullshit.

However, as much as my ego-syntonic-self hates to admit, I will not be good for everyone, people could dislike me for varying reasons. The truth is that it feels like a stake is repeatedly rammed into my chest when friends leave, but my zen shouldn’t have to be sacrificed.

I  love love, and friendship quotes et cetera, but the cinematic wonder in storybooks and fairy tales is notoriously uncommon, for me at least; It may seem sad, but I’d rather reveal my truth than polish my face with deceit, after all, I’ve never been good with makeup.

 

 

Entree  nous

Viridian jewel in thine mouth

Vixen to the core

Consolidating solitude in a foyer

wishing a single prayer

 

Whom amongst us is pure enough

Confrontation being a con

Confluencing with the Ego

Trust never more  earned

A path all but one claim to walk

 

The turntable spins Cinema Paradiso

Quickening our gilded fix

Intoxicated with the age of loneliness

And all it’s fathomless wonders

An unlikely exergonic reaction.

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