Fading and Isolation

For the past few weeks, I haven’t been able to rid my mind of thoughts about my memories. I don’t know why they started resurfacing or why they keep coming back. Perhaps it’s the weather, or maybe I am, as always, living in the past.

A few days ago, I had a conversation about loneliness. She said this city makes us lonely. At that moment, I began thinking about loneliness and isolation in a broader sense. I am very familiar with loneliness. My entire life has been spent living in fear, experiencing the feeling that I could fade away from others. My childhood and teenage years were a constant struggle against isolation. I witnessed adults crying, shouting, and consumed by misery. It always seemed far better to retreat into my own mind, into my fantasies.

I tried to find ways to cope with being alone, constructing a world inside my head. I attempted every possible childish escape available to me at that age—television, video games, books, and eventually, sleep. I suppose I became quite good at it. At least, I like to believe so. Perhaps my distrust in people and in communication began much earlier than I realised. True communication does not begin until someone genuinely desires it. Voices and touches tossed into the void never truly reach the mind. Information remains unshared. I longed to share my mind with someone.

Communication, to me, is like carving my name into another’s heart—a mark that never fades, a scar left for life. Whether I believe it or not, I have always desired it, craved to be carved and tamed. I think I was lucky. I met people. Even before I understood myself, they tried to listen and to understand me. To me, it was a miracle—but perhaps it wasn’t real. That was the problem. It couldn’t be real. In my world, I was either dreaming or mistaken. Two opposing thoughts stood against each other—fear and desire. I don’t think my loneliness has anything to do with the city I live in. At least, it is not this city’s loneliness. I still remember losing relationships because even my own ego and beliefs could not coexist. To desire is to dedicate oneself. If I truly want something, I must be willing to sacrifice myself for it. But I could never resolve the battle between my ego and my beliefs. That was the real reason for my loneliness.

I don’t know if I am ready to stop being lonely. And sometimes, I wonder if I secretly long to be violently tamed—to have my mind dulled to the point where I no longer think about anything at all, as if I were high beyond reason.