Sitting alone in the middle of the day feels perfect. An empty, vast, and fragile state of life that quickly evaporates into the rest of existence once another being steps into the room.

All day people ruin the lovely moments of life. Their voices or fuzzy shaped bodies lingering in the peripheral, almost shattering the existence of my own self using their always nagging to attract needless attention.

Out in nature, soaking in the earth that sustains the life of millions and wanting a reconnection to my singularity in this universe. My soul reaches out to intertwine deep in the earths core which transcends outward to fuse seamlessly into the engulfing sparkles of space. All of this, violently broken onto the ground like a giant glass bottle filled with wine glasses once the nuisance of other life interrupts. Humans, animals, and insects all cause unfixable damage to the peacefulness that isolation provides.

Isolation heals wounds that sit dormant. The kind of pain rolling around the gut like ten pound spurs. The only remedy to heal that pain requires digging deep inside, mining alone to chip away at the boulder of discomfort. Prolonged isolation makes everything feel numb. An addiction to isolation similar to all other addictions might end in death. A peaceful death that only heroin addicts experience. Sadly I must leave this little room to rejoin the word and stop my thoughts of the outside to hopefully make enough to retire and never see another life again; nor let the eyes of another life feel the disturbance of my attention grabbing, life stealing presence.