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Irrelevant

That's how life looks to me. The feeling of isolation, some of it self-imposed, seems to grow each day and I think it's getting tougher the older I get.
This dark blanket of loneliness eager to envelope me and not let go.
My job makes me isolated as the hours of work are unsociable. The rift between members of family has lead me to stay away from them for the sake of some peace & quiet. There is no special person to share the good things in life with.
It's a rut that induces misery, yet I don't seem to care to try and change the situation. It's like submitting to that dark blanket in the hope that one day it will close my eyes so that I can finally have some true restful sleep.
Society hasn't gone mad, it's always been that way. I've stopped consuming most media as it's geared mostly towards pleasant couples and happy families. Too much of that stuff will turn on the tap of depression so that it fully flows like a powerful waterfall and before long you feel like you want to be whisked along by the current until it drowns you.
Phillip Larkin got it right when he talked about mum and dad.
DuaneZenith DuaneZenith 41-45 1 Response Nov 22, 2010

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I know how you feel. I'm a dissapointment to my family. They tell me so. The job I have .. any that I've had .. don't help with the self-esteem, or any feeling of purpose. They just add to the isolation. Everyone else talks about what they did last night, or on the weekend, with their friends, or their partner. And I can't share those kind of stories. Because I don't have those things. Not that anyone asks me to anyway. There are things I like to do. Hobbies and interests. But I want to share them WITH someone. Try to fit in to a group. But never do. Always the outside. The 'odd one out'. So I'm supposed to be happy being alone. Supposed to be happy with out any physical connection to anyone. No emotional connection. Nothing intimate or sexual. Being lonely is all in our heads ...<br />
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Until you actually are. And not for a few weeks. Or months. Or even a year. Try 21 years. Or really, to be more honest, most of your 34 years of life. You get to a point where you just need to see a point of light in the darkness. Or, in my case, feel a hand to hold.