The Party Upstairs

Funny how I'm all alone, yet they are all together. I am an involuntary solitary. My friends? They don't know the real me. I try, I really do, to let myself be known to them, but, all in vain. Just a slight revealing makes them distant and ignorant. All in all, my "friends" are not my real friends, since they know me not. Thinking truthfully, I'd rather them not know who I am. I am a failed writer, a philosopher - a thinker. I am not nearly as what I ought to be. I never finish any projects. I fancy myself smart, yet I feel like a fail class compared to those who truly are smart by nature. I am confused. I am alone.

There is a party upstairs. All I hear are people laughing and talking, loudly. I think back at all the opportunities I had to be like one of those people who enjoy life and then I regret not making friends with the popular crowd, not accepting to hang out with them or go to parties with them simply because I thought I was above them. Am I? Let's see: They have fun, they are faithful friends, they enjoy life; I, on the other hand, don't have fun, do not have loyal friends, and I do not enjoy life. Who's winning here? The "philosophical writer" or the popular air-head? I think we all came to the same conclusion here. Lonely bitter me has achieved nothing in this miserable life, while they have achieved life and friendship. The party is upstairs; I am downstairs.

Forms of Communication

It seems somewhat a curiosity to me how, with just a click, you can be published, you can be read, you can be known. Now all your thoughts, all your feelings can be viewed publicly with or without your knowledge and then you become aware of how vast the world may be and how confusing and how seemingly differently it is from what you expected it to be. Now, the world can just be locked up in your archive with just a click of a button. But then, why is it that when our world can communicate so easily we communicate even less then when we didn't have these advances and we couldn't reach each other so easily? We've improved them method but deteriorated the art. So many things have been done to improve our communication; people from China can now talk to people in South America so easily; it's hardly a struggle to do so. But, even though we can talk so easily, none of it's really talking or conversing... Are we really listening or are we just talking away? Most of what we do is a monologue which no one really cares about or listens to. We talk our hearts away without getting so much as a response from anyone. Is this what our communication has turned into? Are we supposed to enter a world in which all we do is talk to ourselves in this vast black hole that is our universe? Why can't I be heard when life is making it so much easier speak? We can talk all we want here, but can we learn to listen? But, most of all, are you listening to me?