Awkwardness takes on a glimmering charm as one gets older, as one realizes its power. It creates false humility. In theory, I understand that power.
Belonging is a basic human need. How do the ever-lonely cope? We have our mechanisms; our safety blankets and protection strategies. It often lies in art: in writing, in breathing; in closing one’s eyes and seeing visions.
It’s not my intention to elicit sympathy by writing that I am lonely. I don’t feel alone. Instead, I have a budding realization of my potential, and when envisioning that potential I sometimes see a wide open space, dark and studded with stars, or warm shades of color.
I see an isolated calm. That is the loneliness I am referring to.
I am both powerless and powerful, and I am attempting to convey an “About Me” by writing all of this. I always attempt to be clear and concise, but when is humanity ever clear or concise?
In short, I am human, with all the variegation that such a label entails. This blog is my attempt to understand and communicate the aspects of my humanity that compel me to loneliness.