It’s very difficult to make people understand the real thing inside, the realization you’ve attained. Because when you are aware, you want to share but when you realize you lost your words to express. Very few of people in this world who are really at peace. Our frustration is like an unborn pregnancy, which screams for a nippy expulsion. Some people drink, some involve in sexual fantasy, some just throw themselves in midst of acquaintance. I find pleasure to write down some thoughts, some ejaculation in this way I suppose.
Solitude to me is delicious when my mind floats in its own ocean, when the whole of my existence in one sense, and imbibes delight through every stoma. As I walk along the road from my station to home everyday, I see nothing special to attract me; all the elements are extremely congenial to me. In the night after supper, I usually watch a movie or television series. I do not generally get disturbed by anyone, and even if I do, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled.
I still to find the space behind my fine intellect barrier and understood that the thing I’m searching for waits behind that wall. Nevertheless, I’ve understood that this world is nothing but a joke, a vulgar paradox. If people think that staying alone is a disease, I don’t agree with them. I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. Even the most valuable company is soon thankless and dissipating. I never found the companion that was as companionable as solitude.
In reality a man is always alone; it’s just a delusion that creates a duality in mind, searching for companion. Here aloneness is not calculated by the distance that intercedes between a man and his acquaintances. A man lives in the midst of crowded hives and still solitary as a dervish in the desert. Another man stays alone all day, working at his working desk in his office, but when he comes home he cannot grasp the loneliness, at the mercy of his thoughts, but silence is like an inscrutable pain, and his heart squeals to “see his companion”. Therefore, solitude is not an external materialization of internal thought but a silent conversation of spirit with your ego.
Relationship is commonly too cheap. We meet, we involve, and we try to gain our best from each other. Very rare relationships actually have time to acquire any new value to it. It starts from the same point, working round and round in a vicious cycle and end with an earthy unfulfilled desire. We live thick and are in each others way, and stumble over one another, and eventually lose some respect for one another. The worth of a man is not in his skin that we should lay a hand on him.
I’ve occasionally a good deal of socialization in my room, especially in the Sunday afternoon. The flexibility of my nature easily allows me to mix with everyone, and I understand people love me for various reasons. As a matter of fact, I respect all their feelings but when it comes to my privacy, I simply roll down into my shell.
I’m not dark, nor the worshiper of darkness. I’m not Satan from ‘Paradise Lost’ whose ego is the biggest strength and Achilles' heel at the same time. I’d rather be remembered as a solitary hermit, a man who is happy in his ‘unhappiness’.
Solitude to me is delicious when my mind floats in its own ocean, when the whole of my existence in one sense, and imbibes delight through every stoma. As I walk along the road from my station to home everyday, I see nothing special to attract me; all the elements are extremely congenial to me. In the night after supper, I usually watch a movie or television series. I do not generally get disturbed by anyone, and even if I do, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled.
I still to find the space behind my fine intellect barrier and understood that the thing I’m searching for waits behind that wall. Nevertheless, I’ve understood that this world is nothing but a joke, a vulgar paradox. If people think that staying alone is a disease, I don’t agree with them. I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. Even the most valuable company is soon thankless and dissipating. I never found the companion that was as companionable as solitude.
In reality a man is always alone; it’s just a delusion that creates a duality in mind, searching for companion. Here aloneness is not calculated by the distance that intercedes between a man and his acquaintances. A man lives in the midst of crowded hives and still solitary as a dervish in the desert. Another man stays alone all day, working at his working desk in his office, but when he comes home he cannot grasp the loneliness, at the mercy of his thoughts, but silence is like an inscrutable pain, and his heart squeals to “see his companion”. Therefore, solitude is not an external materialization of internal thought but a silent conversation of spirit with your ego.
Relationship is commonly too cheap. We meet, we involve, and we try to gain our best from each other. Very rare relationships actually have time to acquire any new value to it. It starts from the same point, working round and round in a vicious cycle and end with an earthy unfulfilled desire. We live thick and are in each others way, and stumble over one another, and eventually lose some respect for one another. The worth of a man is not in his skin that we should lay a hand on him.
I’ve occasionally a good deal of socialization in my room, especially in the Sunday afternoon. The flexibility of my nature easily allows me to mix with everyone, and I understand people love me for various reasons. As a matter of fact, I respect all their feelings but when it comes to my privacy, I simply roll down into my shell.
I’m not dark, nor the worshiper of darkness. I’m not Satan from ‘Paradise Lost’ whose ego is the biggest strength and Achilles' heel at the same time. I’d rather be remembered as a solitary hermit, a man who is happy in his ‘unhappiness’.
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