THE WOODS ARE LONELY, DA=
RK AND
DEEP
=
&nb=
sp;
‘The pain of life overrides the joy to the point that joy does=
not
exist’.
=
=
&nb=
sp; =
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sp; =
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sp; =
(A suicide note)
Unlike other jobs, writing simply abhors companionship. Since one ha=
s to
be alone and under the umbrage of total solitude, there are many writers who
swear that it is a very lonely occupation. I beg to differ. A lone writer,
occupied with his blazing ideas and virtual characters, will always feel li=
ke
the most wanted person on earth. On the other hand, a celebrity, surrounded=
by
millions of factual fans and the annoying paparazzi can still feel like the
most deserted person in the world. Therefore being alone and feeling lonely=
are
two entirely different concepts.
Seclusion is by choice. Loneliness =
is not.
It is a disease caused by our modern, fast paced and callous society. Earli=
er
it was confined to dingy forgotten rooms where old age withered away without
complaint. However, in the present scenario, with the need- to- excel- in- =
life
pressure, it has also begun to infect not only the immobile elderly but the=
successful
yet depressed urban youth of today. How else can one explain the untimely
deaths of popular up and coming young stars?
‘But suic=
ide?
Must be crazy’. So easy to mouth a stateme=
nt
that perhaps would have been the hardest act for the person to contemplate =
doing.
And who knows how pressed the prompting was? Tired of the lashings from a b=
usy
and uncaring world, it was perhaps the sanest thing he/she could think of. =
One
can never really understand the intricacies of a human mind. But when indiv=
idual
augmentation is replaced by frustration, who knows what state of hopelessne=
ss occurs?
Or whether room for thoughts of personal damage or loss to loved ones still
persists? Perhaps then it becomes an unbearable situation where the pain of=
life
overrides the joy to such an extent that joy soon ceases to exist.
Even with moments of
darkness and depth, the woods where we daily walk are always lovely to beho=
ld.
But when a sanctuary, for some reason, is invaded with meaninglessness or m=
ental
seclusion, when there are no more promises to be kept and when the distance
between wakefulness and sleep is instantaneously covered with a pull of the
rope, it is time for others to wake up. It is time to take notice. It is ti=
me
to slow down.