Being alone and lonely is not a very appealing situation to find oneself in, but for some people, this is the best place for them to be regardless of how awkward and distressing it may be.
You see there are those among us who are not compatible with anyone. Despite their good intentions this type of person always reduces well-meaning into a pile of rubble for themselves and for the person with whom they have become involved.
The days are protracted, and the nights are even more lengthy for the hopelessly forlorn, and they deserve it because they willingly and unwillingly make life a disaster area for someone else.
These people do not mean to fill another person’s life with adversity and misadventure, they simply cannot help themselves because they are endowed with the tragic nature of the weak mind.
This is the mind that means well but always does wrong and the mind that thinks but does not investigate and dissect.
Tears are running from the eyes of the lonely. The lonesome exists within a world isolated unto itself and even within that world, there is a heart-rendering solitude. And they deserve it because they have hurt and harmed by design and unwittingly.
Sympathy and compassion are not due to them, and all their life memories make them shutter with anguish and grief because of the things that they have said and done.
In isolation and solitude, the lonely abide, and in seclusion and separation the lonely die with no one to grieve for them as they are deserving of indifference. The worms abhor them, and the stench of their decaying flesh is a pleasant-smelling aroma to the gods and goddesses of horror.
The nights are sleepless, and the daylight is filled with darkness for those who are alone and lonely, and they deserve it because they have been a waste of time for the composition of cosmic matter that created them.
The clock has stopped ticking a long time ago but the lonely refuses to evaporate, and not because of some strong will to live but because the dead has never been alive. In death, we live, and in life, we die, and no one cares because we are no more than a vague shadow that floats on vapors.
The fantasy world that the alone and lonely creates for themselves as a means of companionship gives them some measure of comfort but always there is a void in their lives that make-believe cannot fill.
Millions upon millions of people crush against the lonesome and yet they feel desolate and deserted, forsaken by all, and trampled to quash by many. And it is just and fitting that the remote should feel and be in this predicament because of the contrary things that they have said, though, and done to themselves and to others in their lives.
So, the fundamentals of being alone and lonely are this. Without warning, all dreams will come to an end and in that instant, you will cease to be. Hurray, for light and darkness are no more, and never again will you shed a tear because of a lonely aching heart.
The worms gaze upon you with distaste and disgust but they munch anyway as their job is to sanitize the environment. The stench of your decaying flesh is repugnant beyond revolting and will repel the most nauseating of odors.
Nonetheless, be of a cheerful spirit because eventually, you will be at rest, and those with whom you may have happened to stumble upon are left in peace because you are not there to trouble them.