So..sick

Ugh yeah. I'm sick. Again. It's not even surprising at this point. Basically, I get to be miserable the majority of the time, and everyone wants to know why I look so unfriendly. Tsk, tsk.

No poetry today, but I do write philosophical meanderings too!

How odd, this pairing off of couples we do. We withdraw from our friends; companions we use as support until we convince another to be with us, and us alone. I see this all around me. And yet, still I remain alone. I'm often curious as to why, as if perhaps it is merely a personal problem. And maybe it is.
Of course, I have been with others before and I generally enjoyed their company. It just always seemed to be missing something. Now, if I can feel this way, I accept others could feel the same way about me. But I admit, loneliness grows tiresome and ever more infuriating. Perhaps it is but sniffling, and the fact is many in this world never find a partner that wishes to share life.
If this is the case, how fortunate those who find their mate should feel. But do they do? A portion must surely not care as they will always be with someone they take for granted; that partners are a given, for them especially.
The most interesting part of this all, to me, is how it is perceived as "bad form" to voice the notion of loneliness; that somehow it is your own doing that others dismiss. It leads to this pent up frustration and cancer of emotions. It becomes a struggle to even go to sleep at night, plagued by the memories of self perceived failure.
And then?
It becomes a new struggle to rise from bed the next day. The world feels pointless when we are alone. This alone is not a physical state. No, it is a mental one. So we bury ourselves in work, school, and drugs. Anything that will allow us to cope and hide how we feel from ourselves. We then go out into our society and put on a smiling face that doesn't even care to smile or frown; a face so numb now they exist for existence's sake. So they laugh and joke, for the amusement of those they pretend to. But they are still gray inside.
Return home and the cycle will begin anew. This is not just a random event. It is every day, every moment. It will never leave on its own accord. Is it still any wonder, to you, reader, why anyone would not crave this life? Why some simply wish to no longer be anything? Why more than anything they simply desire nothingness. To die, and be forgotten?
No, I doubt one who does not live this life could ever understand, else it would not be a problem. How very few will ever understand they have no value as a being? Nothing is more confirming of this than the feeling of being unwanted.

jsn