"Such fortunate are the forgetful
For they forgot the taste of love
Sincere innocence, inseminated
With unbriddled miseries.
Such blissful is the world
With forgotten reveries
Lost to itself
Reeking no more of another's guilt."
Solitude, as they say, is a curse. Bestowed upon our wretched fate as a consequence of our unredeemed mistakes. Solitude, I believe, is pure bliss. Granted to those ,only, who would dare to wander alone in the realm their own anonymity.
Solitude is something, that brings you face to face with sheer reality. Something that takes away all your fears, frees you from the miseries nailed to you for another's mistakes.
What wrongs can 'you' bring upon yourself when world outside awaits to eat you up?
Let me pose atyou a rhetorical question:
"Why should you pity my solitary state, when you are the one afraid of being alone?"
Why should you be sorry for me when 'you' are incapable of holding yourself up on your own?
Why not be sorry for your pitiful dependant condition instead of my originally dependant state of mind?
You may never be able to answer that, and I will never demean my self esteem by giving you an answer. But I will leave you with this:
"When I look into the mirror, I see me. Do you?"
