Loneliness is not the absence of contact. It does not come from not being reached out to. It sprouts, however, from severance. From being touched, and then being suddenly pulled away from. It leaves the thinker puzzled. The thinker wonders if the sign of kinship was an illusion, but is cursed with the knowledge that it wasn’t. The burden of that knowledge, and the mystery of the repulsion.
The thinker does not deserve this violence. This calamitous hullabaloo that seemed to have ripped the fabric of their soberness and composure right through the middle. This signal of hope when they were looking for none. When they wanted none. When they desired none. Now, it left a lot to be desired for. A desire for what?- the thinker doesn’t know. But, the hole lay gaping, as if it were a taunting laugh.
Loneliness comes from the knowledge of a ship whose captain has sighted you. You were just getting accustomed to the wilderness- you were even enjoying it, dare I say. The ship sends you signals, that which hint at initiating contact. Before you get excited and used to the idea that ‘help’,… could it still be called that, when you required none of it? When you had not asked for it, and you do not know of the task at which it hopes to assist with. Anyhow, perhaps you needed it, but you will never know. The ship’s mast decided to blow in a different direction. In an alternate paradigm, the universe widened to accommodate the possibility of the otherwise.
The thinker is now cheerless. They proceed to console their slighted soul, but the reasoning appears clear. The oceans are vast, and the wind could blow you in different directions, each with its own attraction and distraction. No one is to blame. Maybe. But, if seen, noticed, acknowledged, signalled at, approached, and then rejected- ah! The violence perpetuated against the thinker’s soul! The anguish of abandonment. Desertion is loneliness. A plea for acknowledgement that became a rebuff.
Who is to blame?
Sometimes, perhaps, it is not the mind’s construct.