Why you’re alone

I’ve grown attached to the stormy solitude that rages inside my skin,
Have romanticized the idea of being alone, because I’ve forgotten there was any other way to be,
These sensitive surfaces yearn for
staccato touches,
Trembling fingertips along my softest parts,
But I’m too busy burning myself under the hot sun,
Proving I am worthy to some unknowing Greatness, & in pursuit of some deeper virtue,
I’m not sure even exists,
Because focusing on the development of my singular soul,
Is so much safer than subjecting myself to the troubled turmoils of ‘love’,
Misdirected attempts at searching for my reflection,
In the eyes of other people,
I’ve become poorly conditioned by a culture,
That taught me that true love exists in someone else, rather than in myself,
Yes, solitude is safer than being forced to confront,
The most liberating of truths,
That no one will ever give me, what I cannot give to myself.
And what I cannot find in myself,
I will find in the great depths of the world,
From the babbling brook to the cliff crashing waves,
In the flap of a bird’s wing, and in the space between stars,
& if there is some soul-igniting epiphany to be found,
In the touch of another,
Let it be as chaotic in nature as a passing monsoon rainstorm,
Unpredictable in its rhythm,
Leaving only rebirth and abundant regrowth in its wake.

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