solitude 16.8.08

It's a world full of questions, especially the word why.

So there was a girl. It ain't no other girl, it was a girl I perfectly know, someone I knew too well. The strange thing about her was that she was always quiet. A bit too quiet, maybe, that it seemed quite scary for the people living around her. The fact that she was too quiet and keeping things all to herself were also the reasons why she was always alone.

The girl asked herself, "Why do people keep themselves away from me?" In other words, she had always been wondering, Why am I always alone?

Solitude. The state of being alone.

It was April 1997. She went around school when there was nothing to do, wondering where to go, all on her own. When she did have something to do, it was either listening to the teacher babble in class in front, her studying on her own or simply writing whatever to kill off her time. If she wasn't walking around on her own during recess time, she would be pondering off things or maybe looking at other people and what they were doing.

She wouldn't eat if she would be eating on her own, it felt scary; as if the people around would be laughing at her if she was only eating on her own without any company. She wouldn't sit in places with too many people around, it felt scary; she had always been used to being alone that being with too many people was a frightening thought. She wouldn't join her classmates when they were laughing and talking about stupid stuff, it felt scary; a strange thought that they all might hate her usually prevented her from ever trying to get along with anyone, it was better to just look at them from far. She would rather stay out and away rather than sticking around just to be a piece of useless wood; even though she wanted to stay and dig up a conversation. Yeah, when she tried to stick around and speak up, it was always the same as if she had not been there at all in the first place - ignored and shut away, it was something she was already used to deal with.

She would be smiling along from far as she looked at them having fun. She would be pleased to talk to them if they were to feel good to have her along with them. She would be happy if they asked her to go to places together with her, she felt appreciated - not ignored.

Home. What is home for her? Is it a safe place to run away to everytime she felt miserable because of the so-called friendly society?

Mak, abah, she called. She remembered when she was just too small to remember how old she really was, abah had always been carrying her off his back, carrying her down in their home from upper floor to the first floor, maybe everytime it was dinner time. And she felt happy everytime that happened. And dad would always be teaching her how to say 'Good night' in Japanese, as she remembered peeking out from her bedroom window every night when she was a kid, looking over to abah who was also peeking from his bedroom door, saying to her, "Oyasumi!" with a grin. Then... mak? Good, memorable things must have been shared with mak as well, even other things with abah, only she probably did not remember much about them.

Then why, as she was growing up, such things faded? And even so, all the while she was growing up, why was it that she still could not have better, speakable moments at home? Home was a safe, peaceful place to be, to stay away from freaking bad-mouthed or insensitive people who could talk but couldn't think. But she didn't necessarily talk more even being away from people her age at the place she had been living in since the past two decades of her life.

Ultimately she kept asking herself, why have I always been so quiet? Ever since she knew she was a living human being. At school or at home, indoors or outdoors.

The frequent questions came in. The cynical smiles. The annoying grins. The moronic stares. The trashy attitude. All because of quietness and solitude. Why is she always on her own? Why is she always so quiet? Doesn't she feel lonely being all by herself? Are all these, the pity that came in from society and the sympathy they put on us for being what we are, just because we don't talk as much or be with everyone else as much?

So came in her anger; she hated being pitied just because she was always on her own. Thus came in this conclusion: if you see someone always being all on his/her own, ask no questions. They do not need your damn pity.

Being alone or quiet, is seemingly a not-so-normal thing; it always annoys the society so much, apparently, they can't keep quiet about it or leave us alone, is it so?

She got used to it. Being in a world of her own. A so-called comfy zone in solitude. Nobody else to worry about, nothing else to get mad at, no one to make her sad. If anything, it's just her; anything good, it must be from Him, anything bad, it only came from her own actions.

Although it was probably a fake world without happiness, sometimes it brings peace. That is why people need to be alone when they don't wanna be disturbed. Still, I know this too well, too much can be harmful for the state of mind. It's just that some people are already used to it - it's a part of our life, people like us. Freakish weirdos of complex, non-talkative and secretive introverted bakas. For me, I learn to give up some part of it to have a bit of good laughter in my life, for a change. As humans, we do need it. I still needed craze.

Whatever it is, solitude = great.

So hey... welcome, to solitude. [youkoso, hitori bocchi]



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