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Showing posts from July, 2017

The Empty Places

For most of my life I have been alone. I don't expect this to change. Loneliness is, at it's core, what do; what I am. There is an inherent loneliness in reading, in thinking and writing. I have always wanted to be alone. I suppose that comes from always living in a madhouse, overflowing with people and animals---we have a family of nine and at one point fourteen dogs. I remember sitting in a closest for hours, alone with my thoughts. Of reading Joules Verne late at night when everyone else was asleep. Of taking long, long walks to god-only-knows where till the sun falls far bellow the mountains on the horizon; something I still do. I remember craving silence, solitude, a place to think, more than anything in the world. A place devoid of all the noise and rushing about of life. A place empty of all but myself. I longed for a place that was mine. I longed for loneliness.I still do. Though now to much different extent than before. I've come to know that I need people as much…