Loneliness

IF WE had to summarize the personal problems of man in the most concise terms using a concept easily understood, we could say man feels lonely, and he spends his days trying to feel lonely no more.

We feel lonely, and the reasons number enough to challenge being counted. We feel lonely because we are not married. We feel lonely because of our marriage. We feel lonely in our parents’ absence. We feel lonely in our parents’ presence. We feel lonely because we are not first in a particular person’s heart, or first in receiving the greatest energies of their passion. We feel lonely with no one to sleep beside us, and once we find somebody to do so, we are soon lonely with them. We feel lonely because we think we are smarter than everybody else, or because we feel we aren’t as smart as anyone else. We feel lonely because we are not as pretty as anybody else, or because we are more pretty than everyone else. We each could write an entire book consisting of nothing but all the things that have made us feel lonely in life.

Such a book would be full of accusations against other people, and useful to convince ourselves we feel lonely for reasons other than the true one. To get closer to the true reason, we must realize we feel lonely because nobody truly knows us. We are acquainted with a great number of people, some of whom we call family, friends, or lovers, and not one of them has a reasonable understanding of who we really are. They do not know our greatest longings, our most dreaded fears, our deepest desires, nor the heat of our most fiery passions. More importantly, they do not know how we perceive the world, our relation to it, and our selves. They only know what we allow them to see, which is precious little, and how can anybody ever begin to truly like or love us, if they do not know who or what we are? What good is it to me if others love only the partial person, the pretend person, I have told them I am? How can I believe another person loves me, when all I know for sure is that the person they think they love, is not even me? Perhaps I am absolutely, completely lacking in unconditional love from any other soul. If so, it certainly is not entirely their fault. There is no way they can fully love me, because I have not shown them who I am.

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