Never Too Silent, My Dear

"they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech 
by speech which has delighted them.
The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence" 

- Marianne Moore 

photo source: Aleyn Comprendio  

Until last night, I haven't realized how much of a solitary creature I have become. I can be with dozens of friends or in a roomful of people and I'd still feel unwarranted loneliness, I'd still feel gauche and out of place.


There are weak moments when I would envy flighty people. I think it is easier to be around people sometimes. You can't hear your thoughts. You can't second-guess yourself. You just let others make decisions for you. I know a lot of people who seem to thrive no matter who they are with. I used to wonder how it feels like to be widely-acquainted. To know that no matter where you turn to, you always have a group to go to – to be with different people with different versions of personalities.

I think it is exhausting. It wasn't too long ago when I have dispensed with the need to fit in every group. I guess my social ineptitude has risen to the surface. Most of the time, I'd prefer to stand back and view the chaos other people seem to dwell and find comfort in. I'd be silently amused by the trappings of superficiality—of man's endless needs to please others, to do things that adhere to social norms.

I guess I'm a solitary creature by choice. I am drawn to others who are as solitary as I am. Perhaps it is because I know better now— that being alone is never tantamount to being lonely. Maybe this is just my peace and serenity-loving nature asserting itself. But I reckon I'd rather feel alone than flit from one group to another, thereby confusing myself in the process.