Isolation

‘I am in truth the Steppenwolf; that beast astray who finds neither home nor joy nor nourishment in a world that is strange and incomprehensible to him.’

Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf

I am looking out of the window, watching the world outside. I am disconnected from the people, the streets, the sun in the sky. I am separate and alone, an objective observer of a life I am not part of.

It is not just loneliness. I have always been alone. I have managed to spend a large amount of my life surrounded by people. This does not mean that I have not always been alone. Isolation is different. It is being detached from society. I felt lonely when I had people around me who cared, now I am severed from that; cut off and separate from others.

Besides, I do not mind being lonely. I am more myself when I am not with people. When I am with others I adapt myself, forever the chameleon, letting them see what they want to see; relieving their loneliness.

There are times, glimmers of connectedness, but these days, they are rare. It is not just talking to someone, with them talking back. It is having someone relate, connect, understand, share.

I do not feel or need the way I am informed that I should feel and I should need. I do not understand society and the mentality behind it. I have no desire to achieve for achievement’s sake. I do not need or want status, riches or fame. I do not fit with or understand the simple day to day things either. I do not want to watch mindless TV. I get no joy from empty chatter.

It has become worse. I go to the park and feel nothing, and realise the only reason I have gone outside is because I have been told to go outside is good, to walk is good, to go out in the sun is good. At this stage, stepping outside counts as an achievement; but I feel nothing. To be in the park you must have a pet, a child or an other. To be there alone, amplifies the isolation. To not feel connected to nature even, worries me.

Last time I looked out at the sea I did not hear the waves or feel the spray on my face. I felt nothing. It did not call to me as it once did. I am an empty shell.

I am isolated from myself; an observer, outside, watching myself for a reaction to see if I can still feel. But I don’t. I feel nothing at all. Emptiness and isolation.