Isolation

by Steve Lazarowitz

I am constantly surrounded by people. I live with someone. I work in a computer store with lots of employees and lots of customers. There's always someone around. I have real life friends and even more online friends. I can barely think of a time when I have been truly alone... and yet... I am often lonely.

In some ways, it is like being stranded on a life raft, dying each day of thirst, surrounded by the entire world's water supply. I find such situations to be profoundly ironic. That includes, I suppose, my own.

I have often asked myself why I must surround myself constantly with humanity and why I am never satisfied for long by the presence of the masses. I ask myself that again now and find the mystery remains. I am inundated and yet alone. Totally immersed in a world of interaction, but not able to touch that which I so deeply crave. Could this be what Moses felt like, when he was forbidden to enter the promised land?

This question brings to my mind many others. Am I alone in my feelings as well? Do others feel the emptiness as I do? How many? Where are they? Would it assuage my pain to know others suffer the same malady?

I think not. For each person's pain is individual. A family member dies and people tell us they know how we feel. They have experienced the same thing. Yet is it the nature of pain that in our grief, we can not reach out, and their empathy, while appreciated, is wasted. No person can touch another's pain, though we can feel our own as a reflection of theirs, however dim. If only I could share my pain with another, truly share it, perhaps I could begin to heal. Alas, I no longer believe it is possible.

The darkness has been with me for as long as I can remember. I seldom write articles about it, but one can not help but to notice it, when reading through many of my stories. There is an almost implicit pain that drives me, but I have been unable to locate the source of that pain and must instead settle for the knowledge that without it, I would not be able to create the words you now read. The pain within is the driving force behind my creativity.

Certainly this seems like a pattern for many of the world's greatest writers share the darkness with me. It is perhaps why so many became alcoholics or drug abusers. I don't partake myself of such substances (beyond the very occasional social drink), but still share the darkness. Sometimes, it is an inane thing that triggers the mood. Something out of the blue. A happenstance others wouldn't even notice. It could be a book, a movie, a random comment, a situation. It is unpredictable and terrible in the speed of its inception. I could be having a wonderful day and suddenly, the blackness rises to the surface. In the worst such cases, the initial melancholy gradually gives way to despair.

I have been told by some of my friends that I might consider medication to control these mood swings. In truth, they do not happen often enough to bother with such extreme measures, nor do the feelings stay with me long. And even if they did, I very much doubt I would risk my talent for a piece of sanity, which is what I believe would happen. I have too much to offer in that arena.

Tonight, the mood came on me after watching a movie I shall not name here. It is enough to say that this particular movie came as quite a shock to me, since I only saw it for my stepdaughter and did not expect to enjoy it. But I did enjoy it, even as it reached inside me and brought to the surface my darkest thoughts. Perhaps there is a part of me that embraces the darkness, just as some claim to embrace the light. Would I trade places with them? It is unlikely.

What words of wisdom might I offer another, who shares my inner bleakness? What can I, knowing as I do the futility of trying to comfort them. Perhaps, there is nothing to be said, but this.

True darkness can only exist in the presence of light. If there was no light, this would be the only thing we felt, and it would feel more natural to us. So if you feel it, you must have seen light at some point. And the memories of those momentary lapses can be enough to keep us going.

I can not, will not share your pain. But I can offer my own as a beacon. A shining example that you are not alone... none of us are.

Despite all the evidence to the contrary.

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