I once had to say this on a show many years ago, and I truly believe it: Loneliness is a choice. I like to be alone; I’m more comfortable alone. But I do recognise that I take it too far sometimes and so I try to force myself to keep up with being sociable. I just am a bit of a lone ranger; I always have been. But I don’t believe that necessarily has to translate to being lonely. You can be lonely in a crowd of a thousand people. I can be in a hotel room on my own, and not feel lonely. It all comes down to how comfortable you are with who you are in the silence.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
― Philip Larkin, ”This Be the Verse” (via quintotoro
There are songs I can’t listen to anymore, movies I can’t watch anymore, names I can’t say out loud anymore. Because the things that come with it are things I don’t want to feel anymore.
I wonder how biology can explain the physical pain you feel in your chest when all you want to do is be with someone.