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Journal Journal: One thing to be alone, another to be lonely 1

There were three people at the show together tonight:

Me: the one who got there very early, and had a cup of coffee, so that when everyone else arrived, they wouldn't be lost.

Myself: the one who sat reading outside the theatre, hoping he wouldn't fall asleep and ruin going out for everyone.

and I: the one who took his seat alone, and wondered if it was his fault for getting the price wrong when he told everyone.

And why do I put up with it? What else would I do; how would I retaliate? I'm not violent, by practice and promise more than nature. Should I scream and yell for attention? No, thank you, I'll take my island and be done with it. Should I tell them I'm offended and angry? I don't want the pity, and I don't want them to react to me the way I figure I should expect *because* they're sorry.

That's the thing, I figure. The minute you *say* something's amiss, you know that if you get it, it's not because you needed it, or wanted it, or deserved it, or because someone *wanted* you to have it. You know that you would still not have it *except* as a reaction to your objection to *not* having it.

This is where I don't get the prospect of stories like that in "Castaway," or other island movies. The basic tenet is that one would go crazy not having other people around to talk to.

My life is the exact opposite of that. There's millions of people around, and I tend to see signs of craziness in myself for not being able to talk to them. I've often wondered if I was doing something wrong in my interaction with others. The idea that other people are all over the fucking planet that have no care to be near me, to know me the way most people say that people are supposed to be known, and love me the way they say that people are supposed to be loved, then the problem I have in my equation *is* other people.

I say, give me the fucking island. Remove other people from the equation, and I no longer have the need to interact with them. If there's no one to disclude me, I don't feel discluded.

So, can the forces in my life *please* conspire to shipwreck me (at the cost of no other lives) on an island? I could build a boat, but I have no sailing capabilities. And if I followed some course, it would be easier to trace it, thus removing the "stranded" aspect.

Give me a desert island. Let me make fire. Let me chart the constellations. Let me re-make science from the ground level. I will re-invent the things I miss, and write about the new things I discover. Hell, I wouldn't need a computer if there were things like glass, geology and astronomy to rediscover. I only have one now because I need a new challenge, now that others have beat me to the chase.

I mean, it's one thing to be alone, another entirely to be lonely in a sea of people.

Or maybe I'm just bitter.

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For every complex problem, there is a solution that is simple, neat, and wrong. -- H. L. Mencken