The longish hair, the overgrown beard, the loss of appetite — are all symptoms of his solitude. He understood — taking refuge in solitude, to escape the absurdity of the out-side was not the most intelligent, rational choice he’s made. But, the world was too surreal, — the rich dominated the poverty debate, men dominated women’s legislation, Universities had no ideas, criminals ran the government, friends were diminishing, people were oblivious — and half of them blamed the victims. However, burying his head in the sand, sitting alone in the dark, covering his eyes and ears, did not change reality, the out-side world and it’s people.

He left his solitude in exchange for a casual stroll…

Coming across a familiar face was inevitable: a friend of his almost passed him by, but spotted him in time. The friend, looked down upon cheap bars, sandwich stands and casual walks. Instead, a restaurant with menu’s that over-priced it’s quality, was where they ended-up — him watching the friend tag pictures of his food on instagram. On the bus, a familiar face saw him, and a lightning quick smile was exchange with the the face attached to expensive clothing. The clothing rejected anything less; you had to be pricey to associate your-self with it’s face. A cold, silent “Hi” was exchanged with a passer-by; an aura associated with a serious, professional job had managed to define the existence of this person — he knew the person differently. Pitted looks that said “when will you be successful like everyone-else,” accompanied the journey into his room. As he closed his door, he understood: solitude wasn’t just a choice, but a necessity in a world without humans but full of expensive clothes, over-priced cuisine and absurd jobs labeled with the stamp of seriousness. Laying in his bed, he reached-out to one of his only friends (Dostoevsky), and glanced at his other friends: Goethe, Hugo, Chomsky, Sartre, Camus; and he knew they were the only humans he knew.


2 thoughts on “Solitude

  1. Solitude I cling to thee!
    This strikes a chord within, for it is this solitude that has freed myself. In a fake world, a plastic world… I choose music and words in books over clothes and parties. I choose myself, and have learned to love myself in a world that just wants me to hate me.

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