The Lonely Hour

It is around this time, 6pm, when darkness falls and the usual sounds of my sister’s radio and the TV in the lounge begin to softly start up, that I feel the complete and utter loneliness of my soul. A type of loneliness that assures me to be the sole believer of my beliefs, the single human in my current circumference that thinks the way I do, feels the thing I feel, in the same way as I do. 

The only one who finds fulfilment in an overcast sky, a fiery sunset, a rain-drenched garden. The only one who walks along, not engrossed in their own personal dilemmas all the time, but focused on observations. Of the types of people I pass, their distractions, their nonchalance towards life. I feel entirely alone in my interest in the minute details of life. Of the depth of thought and the overwhelmingly largeness of our world. I yearn to be collecting knowledge each day, to discuss the deepest, most mind-stretching topics of our little worlds. Why must we speak about things we do not care for, feign interest in the motions we must endure each and every day. I feel as though I am the only one who thinks about this each time I hit my bed at evening, pondering the ridiculousness of it all. Surely to live in repetition is not in our nature, who would want to live this way? I understand that it is the way society functions but then my next question is, why would anyone live out their repetitive lives in a place that screams nothing but mundanity. 

My soul feels as though it is being drained – by Friday I can barely find motivation to continue. And I know that this is how all working-class citizens must feel. But I just can’t comprehend why we all continue to do so. To save up money and buy what? A new car? A new house? A holiday getaway? And for what? A month or two of happiness and satisfaction. Only to repeat the cycle again and again. The mass acceptance of this type of life actually frightens me. To know that this is more or less how my own life will pan out dampens my excitement for the future somewhat. What is the point of living out your life as though you are simply waiting for the day you will die? I am yet to meet a single human who truly feels as though their life has been well-lived and to the utmost capacity. It is hard and yes it costs money but seriously, I think people tend to forget the fact that we only have one life. One. We will not live forever. We grow older with each day that passes. And so what are we waiting for?? I would rather live on minimum wage and know that I tried to find my own happiness in experiences and travel and relationships rather than in material possessions and unfulfilling pathways.

To me, the only antidote to mundanity and repetition is adventure. To try new things all the time and quite simply, do what makes you happy. It is not as hard as everyone makes it out to be. You just have to have the courage. And if you really do want to live your life out the way it was intended to be, then finding this sort of courage is not difficult at all. 

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