An Artists’ Existence

I wonder if everyone is born lonely. It would make sense, all things considered. How else does the saying go if not, you enter this world alone, and you leave it just the same? But, I wonder if everyone else feels this ache, this numbness in regard to human companionship, or the lack thereof.

Perhaps the aches evolve, not from physical loneliness, but from mental and emotional isolation. Perhaps, we are not born lonely, but we develop it like breasts or a bad habit. It is when we are aware enough that we are not, cannot be understood, that the bitterness nestles in and creates that chasm of emotion that is to be lonely.

Maybe it is only a select few that this ails. If I were a betting woman, I would wager that any artistic being is wrecked by this common occurrence, attributed to their uniqueness. The very thing that frees them from the binds of this plane, cages them into a hellish scape that can be identified by the word alone.