There are few more shameful confessions to make than that we are lonely.
Many of the ideas in the recesses of our minds are too odd, contrary, subtle, or alarming to be safely revealed to anyone else.
And yet, despite all of this, we shouldn’t be grightened or discomforted by our pervasive loneliness.
We can sing, write poetry, produce books and blogs, activities stemming from the realization that people around us won’t ever fully get us, but that others sparated across time and space, might just.
Enduring loneliness is amlost invariably better than suffering the compromises of false community.