The Sound of Loneliness

She got hysterical when he explained to her that the primary reason for his attraction to the other woman was her need to alleviate the oppressive loneliness that weighed down on her. It was not so much her loneliness that cried for relief as the way she said about it. She sounded so achingly sincere and vulnerable that something inside him responded. Maybe he was stupidly sentimental, but that was the way he was. Anyway, love has something to do with language. When two persons are in love, they speak and share the same language and music and in the process the loneliness each experienced prior to their union dissolved and they knew the meaning of love.

Unrequited love invariably hurts. The one who was rejected should spend more time contemplating on the reasons why his/her affection was not reciprocated than blaming the one did the rejection. Rejection usually falls within one of the two circumstances: misunderstanding or lack of acceptance. The rejector is at blame for the first scenario whereas the rejected is at fault for the second case. Nobody in his right mind would reject something/someone of value. The best way to handle rejection is to work on oneself or to lower one's standards so next time one can have a better chance to be successful in conquering somebody's heart. Remember, as unenlightened human beings, we usually have a higher opinion of ourselves than we actually deserve.

Back to first personal pronoun, I have known a lot about rejections. I have been usually at the receiving end. I didn't blame others. From each rejection, I learned something very deep about myself. Honesty is the best policy. Having courage is also very helpful. In order to be able plumb the creative well, I have to dig deep into myself to come up with something fresh and striking, but not necessarily personal. Imagination and embellishment are thus necessary.

Loneliness is not the inability to be with kinsmen and family members. It is the absence of somebody who really understands and cares about us to a point of saying, hey, you matter a great deal to me and I would do everything within my power to ensure you are alive and well, in other words, I would take care of you regardless you want to be taken care or not. You are like a wayward son or daughter whom I cannot possibly turn my back on even though at times I wish I could do so. Love is the inability to stay away from the beloved. And when we are forced to be away from those we love, we feel unavoidably lonely. In the case we have nobody to love, we feel a void within. That's when we also feel lonely. I have been lonely all my life. I have intimately known loneliness. It's my constant companion.

Tell me lies,
Tell me sweet little lies.
Tell me everything to your heart's desire
While doing so, on your face keep your smile
Don't you know
I love you so?
I would love you till the day I die.
So go on,
Tell me lies,
Tell me sweet little lies
Tell me till I cry

In your way, Asshole, you're not a stupid guy, but vastly ignorant and crude although you managed to finish college. But you're a narcissist. Like most narcissists, you're probably a self-loathing motherfucking scumbag and not a very brave one either. It's likely and I dearly wish so, one of these days you would find your sphincter failing you; any courage you might have, draining through the soles of your feet; all your assumptions about your time on earth leaching from your heart; your last glimpse of the earth dissolving in a bloody mist.

The new year didn't bring any relief of the torturing thoughts. Instead, you found yourself annoyed and irritated beyond measure. The sons of bitches and the bitches had better pray hard for their luck. They say insomnia is an affliction. I say it is a gift if one knows how to avail oneself of its power. It helps him see things with more clarity when all is still in the wee hours of the night except the beating of one's heart. I once had a very big heart. It used to beat loudly and wildly. I used to feel sorry for humans, including myself. Not anymore. I suffered too much. I no longer give a damn who else is suffering. To suffer is a sign of stupidity and naïveté. I am sick and tired of listening to tales of woe and wailing stories of self-pity. This world is tough and rough. And every motherfucker thinks he/she is nice and decent. But the reality is that they have an inflated sense of self. They are blind cowards at heart. When was the last time they actually read a book from cover to cover and when they were through, their minds were in turmoil and their hearts beat wildly for they had changed. The book had changed them. Yet they all the gall to tell me that they read books! What a bunch of liars! I could tell they didn't read many books just from the way they expressed themselves in writing. Ironiically they know how to read iniquity in others because it breeds in them. No surprise that they have accused me of stealing, pickpocketing, avarice, and lies. In them mendacity and cruelty are not occasional and accidental vices, but ingrained, inveterate, deep-rooting, and pervasive defects. They are nothing but "sanitation" engineers and bug sprayers and pond scum suckers. They probably didn't master toilet training in their childhood and thus have lived most of their lives with skid marks on their underwears. They consider themselves educated, but they understand nothing of the books they read. They are simply grandiose idiots and smug simpletons. The likes of them nauseate me no end with their endless, stupid pontifications on subjects they know nothing about. They think that armed with a college degree, they can dispense opinions.

Loneliness is not the only subject I have spent time thinking about. I have also long reflected on the subject of cowardice with all of its dimensions. And of course, a person worth his salt in the area of thinking would press on and think of honor and homicide and punishment and death if he thinks about the subject of cowardice long enough.

Revenge or fighting back is an ingrained trait in all sentient beings. I don't think I took revenge into my hands, but rather I fought for my ow survival and peace of mind when I wrote th following words:

"Your references about lagniappe and your being there when I was "teetering" left me in a foul and uncommunicative mood. You didn't really understand me. For that I didn't blame you. It would take an extraordinary human being to understand and thus appreciate me. Ordinary folks tend to underestimate me. They were thunderstruck by the obvious and underwhelmed by the bizarre and the inconsistent when it should be the other way around. Call me arrogant or whatever, but I firmly believe I am rare and beautiful. With the right person, I can bring peace and joy and security. I don't think you are the right person because you are so keen to jump to conclusions, so quick to defend yourself, and too lazy to read between the lines or listen to the unspoken words. 

Peevishness and strong words from you turned me off royally. For both our sakes, we must terminate all communication. You will not hear anything further from me except silence. One day (maybe at least five years from now) when you no longer get angry or are self-righteous, you will understand these words and appreciate them for what they are.

Fare thee well, my friend."
(to be continued)