The need for love, pretend love, springs from the fear of loneliness? The loneliness and isolation. Why this solitude?
"Human beings, who are interested only in themselves, do nothing but create loneliness."
J. Krishnamurti
I see myself and nothing else. Even when I look at other in fact I see only a reflection of myself. Besides, how can I detach myself from and see with other eyes ? The my happiness, my success, my hopes, my family, my profession, my office, my car, my profession, my generosity. I think the my production, I will not be alone anymore.
In fact, it is the attention given to myself that generates my loneliness.
I am alone. In a cold desert. I am unhappy, help me, I want to be loved.
Feeling isolated are unhappy. I wish you love me. Although I can not ask for it, love me. Do not force me to ask, why do not you understand? Do not leave me, do not let be alone with myself. How will I live with myself?
I want to be loved, but nobody really loves me, nobody knows me intimately. How am I going, what should I do?
A simple question is not answered yet. I can only avoid it, do not think, to fill another. The anguish remains. Dwells in my mind that can not be understood clearly. Do not listen. E 'confused, troubled by a dull unhappiness. There is no interval in which I can listen and understand the nature of my need for love. There is only the fear of not getting it. What becomes panic when I try to dwell on my situation. And I give up.
Even if I have time, there is no time in which I am willing to listen to myself to understand the nature of my need. I want to stop. I do not want to know why. I do not want to hear.
are alone among others. They are just as among the others like a little 'peace and being alone and being alone live the torment of my solitude. Inside me there is a well cool and dry, deep, I can not water, a need that I can not explain, that others can not understand. Love me, please. Do not ask me to explain. Why do not you know you love me? Pretend if you want but do not walk away from me.
"The truth is sacred. If you say too often nobody will believe you. "
GK Chesterton
That sense of anxiety is the protection that separates me from the consciousness of solitude. I prefer the anguish, the uncertainty of being loved, the reality of loneliness. I am nothing without anguish. As long as I feel anguish it will mean I will not have faced, overcome, I will not be entered into the reality of loneliness. A battle that I will not win. I have to choose between the fear of not being loved and the courage to face the inevitability of being alone. And I choose the anguish uncertainty, rather than the loneliness, the assurance that when meeting treacherously, for a moment, reveals the reality of my human condition, poverty of my spirit.
That sense of anxiety makes me feel alive. If anxiety were to cease it would mean that I won the battle and I accepted the reality of what is . But this for me would die, the end of my illusions, proof that reality is different from what I believe. Instead I want that reality is just what I believe , not what is . Will change it if necessary, will fight, I will discuss, but I will never accept this which is . I do not want to accept the reality of loneliness. And that anguish to which I cling dead not to feel isolated, it makes me feel alive. The need for love. Without love I am nothing.
prefer anguish, begging for love. I can not, I will not accept being alone, deeply alone.
I reduced my life, which is something extraordinary, to a petty matter, need someone to love me.
Continued ...
"Oh, get to the point of death and understand not having lived at all!"
Henry D. Thoreau
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