(A HYPOCRITICAL REBUTTAL  TO ‘YOU ARE NOT ALONE‘)

The hot, sick irony of writing ‘YOU ARE NOT ALONE,’ came to haunt me just after I’d hit publish. 

Here I was, here I am, feeling more alone than ever. 

It’s not so much the act of being alone that bothers me; in fact, solitude is perhaps my most welcome companion. It is, however, in those brief moments of

dismal desperation, when I am reaching out to nothing, realizing with horror and grief that there is not a soul close enough in camaraderie to confide in; not

a person who has not betrayed my trust, nor played telephone with my past; it is in those times of need that I feel most lonely after all. 

How rare it is to find someone who gives you their entire heart without restraint, without a motive, without deception, without a trade. Is it worth it to push

yourself into situations and friendships that no matter the length of time spent together, still feel veiled, and surface, and fraudulent; leaving you with the

hangover of an insincere transaction… is it worth it?

My answer has always been no. Not worth it, not now, not ever. It drains me to mask my emotions; to play dress up of the perfect socialite, buzzing around

person to person with no substance to sink into.

Once upon a time the fakery drained me to drink; at last I could free all that locked up energy and let

myself spill out; although it was not my real self, it was a murky milkshake of that which I am, and that which it is; the substance and the abuser, two minds

at one, two hands in the pot, two chefs too many. 

That left me feeling empty, and that emptiness led me to drink again. And again. And again. 

This is why I do not drink anymore save the odd sip of whiskey or wine at times of toasting to celebrations. I want to be all of myself, even if that self ain’t

right for all or right for any. At least it’s me. At least it’s something to grab onto. At least it’s somewhat accountable. 

I feel a real repulsion, pity, and deep sadness for people who lie, cheat, and steal their ways through life. I’m aware of a real disconnect between myself and

those who can’t just be real, can’t just be free; and yet I know in my heart that this push I feel is in itself a crude judgement on those who I cast aside as

‘other.’ I know it does more harm than good to disapprove, but I just can’t connect to anyone I feel is living through some opaque shield of bullshit, where

actions, thoughts, words, and hearts are unaligned, discombobulated, stuck, jammed up… wrong. 

It might be this stubborn aversion I have that has caused me to be painfully particular about my friends, my love interests, and my jobs in the arts, but it is

also something that has landed me my most rewarding jobs, and my most beautiful relationships. 

The dizzying number of times I have been lied to has helped concrete my devotion to the truth above all else. A silver lining on the swollen abdomen of the

clouds at bay. 

And so, here I am, concluding absolutely nothing, yet feeling a little better nonetheless.

I might at times be alone, but at least I am alone with the truth. 

written by cass