Solitude
[the state of being alone. separated
from other people. whether considered as a welcome freedom from disturbance, or
as an unhappy loneliness. remoteness. a quality of quiet seclusion in places
from which human activity is generally absent. a remote or uninhabited place.]
in two days i will be leaving to the
island of oahu for four months. this blog is a chronicle of that journey. four
months of solitude. at times, i
think of it as an escape. an escape from the mundaneness of my old life. an
escape from the repetition of my hometown. other times, i fear the unknown. i
fear the loneliness.
hawaii.
you
don’t know shit about hawaii.
when i moved to hawaii for school two
years ago--- well let’s go back a few steps, i didn’t fucking move to hawaii
for school.
you
want the short of it?
i loved a girl with all my heart. i did
everything i could to be with her. her dream
was to move to hawaii. my dream was to be with her.
the
short of it is: only one of these dreams came true.
and here i am, two years later and two
days before i go back to the speck in the great expansive blue. by myself.
alone.
in
solitude
i guess the point of this whole thing –
the blog i mean – is to touch base with reality at least once a day. there are
a thousand clichés about what hawaii does to a person. the truth is that it is
just a fucking island in the middle of a shitload of water. and whatever it
does to you is really a collaboration of an exponentially expansive amount of
chemicals and particles colliding and intertwining and destroying and creating
and just fucking driving you to where you are and where you’ve been. this is
not fate. this is not destiny. this is just what happens.
and
it is a miracle.
but let’s get back to the point here. i
believe that the most vivid and immaculate pieces of human history are born
from moments of complete solitude.
of complete isolation. because these moments are focused and exact. they are
irises in the eyeballs of history. they are finite. they are miniscule. but
when they are grouped together, these moments build and build until they are
us. the lonely thoughts of every great mind in human history have created the
books we read in school. and all of
these philosophers and musicians and philanthropists and politicians that have
shaped the mind of my generation and the next, they were all, at some point…
alone, living and breathing in complete, beautiful, resilient,
solitude.
but…
why?
why
reduce yourself to nothingness?
why
reject a helping hand?
why
turn down a beer with a friend?
why
would a human being CHOOSE to be alone?
meaning.
the
truest, purest form of self-discovery will never exist without solitude.
and that is the point of this blog. the
strangest piece of this puzzle is deciding if i will truly be alone on this
island. i am a reasonably friendly person, despite the tone of these words. and
i know there will be people there that i will befriend. the truth is, i’ve been
alone for a long time. to me, loneliness is not a burden. it’s a gift. and the
people around me will simply never fill the void that has been growing for so
long.
this blog is a place for me to bare my
soul. i don’t want pity. i don’t want sympathy. i am a writer and i just want
to write. and for the first time in a very long time, i feel the fear of solitude turning into optimistic
ambition. i want to look into the heart of the island and see what it can do
for me and nobody else. this is an opportunity to discover myself. this is an opportunity
for you (assuming at least one person reads this blog) to go with me to one of
the remotest places in the united states in an attempt to really see what this
world has to offer. and maybe it is just me writing to nobody and i’m all alone
in this.
you know what? fuck it.
that’s
solitude.
that’s
the point.
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