Solitude

I’m not one of those people who seek solitude. It just seems to find me and suits me well. I can go for days and days without human contact nearly forgetting how to speak living in my mind nearly unable to decipher between what’s real and what isn’t.

I’m sitting here in the dark unable to pay bills and just listening to the silence around me. I realize now what I considered to be silence was always the gentle hum of a fan or the soft murmurs of a radio in the distance.

I wonder how many people really have sat in complete silence. Without that fan or that radio or the cars zooming past outside. I sit here and I listen and I see now that neighbors have created this wall of white noise protecting them from everything else around them. Creating their own solitude.

I know that I could open my mouth and scream bloody murder and no one would hear me. No one would look up from their papers or look away from the televisions all unable to hear me threw the dull hum of this artificial solitude.

I feel exposed and venerable outside of my little shell.

I feel my own new solitude twisting and bending into something like a monster. I once read somewhere that the only difference between loneliness and solitude was being away of being alone.