Who can I call, when they all fail?

I been isolated in my room for ten days straight now, without a single world coming out of my mouth. I text, occasionally, just to remind myself that I still know the words and that the world, outside of my room, is still spinning, just the same.

Here inside though, the clock has stopped. At 01:00 p.m. on a November Monday, just like that.

I woke up one morning, and nailed the thickest cover I had on the window. Yeah, that probably means that I’m going to have to pay something extra, by the time I’m going to move out, but at least I’m going to live here, in my terms. No light from outside is going to enter.

It’s just me, my books and my desk lamp. A pile of 11 large Domino’s pizza has piled up on one corner. I go through the equations of different models of accretion disks around supermassive black holes, patiently, with dedication.

All my life I have been a lone wolf. When I moved out here, I started to mix up a little bit, just to see how that feels. My inner wolf is growling now.

Never have I ever imagined the coldness of society. In fact, not knowing it, being an outsider, I almost had idealized it. I haven’t imagined that you could call a “friend” telling them that you are experiencing some kind of strange allergy that is affecting your breathing, and they reply, “Oh, I’m not near your apartment right now, but I get free at the evening”. Funny.

People, just care about themself. Most of the time, anyway. And most of them, just to add.

Schopenhauer was right . And so was Bukowski, and Newton, and many others. Isolation is the only way to express your frustration to what we have become as human beings.

One of my latest interaction was when I saw a friend that I haven’t seen for a long time. I was happy to see her, but just a couple of minute after talking to her, I felt so out of place, that I didn’t belong to that particular spacetime point. I excused myself and left. My inner wolf was strong.

The feeling of emptiness is a really sneaky one. It sneaks on the smart people, the deep thinkers, deep soul emotion feeling ones. And these are my people. I see them, I feel their pure, aesthetic soul and pain. I feel it on the guy who at 10 p.m. screams his soul out on the tone of his guitar, on the dark park. I feel it on the karate kimono wearing guy, who at 3:00 in the morning punches trees.

I find it interesting that as time passes, within my fully dark room, I can’t even imagine talking to another human being. I’m even turning into an asexual being. I don’t feel any sexual attraction at all, and even the fire in the blood of South American senoritas here around isn’t turning me on.

I texted another friend. When he was in trouble some years back, I told him, “Walk toward the light my friend”. So, now, I just asked him, “Are you still walking in the light?”, he said, “Yeah, everything is good. What about you?”.

“Yeah, me too”, I say, “I’m covered in light, everything is so bright right now”. A minute later, I hold my palm in front of my face. It’s so dark, I can’t even see the slightest reflection of light from it.

I had lasagna pizza yesterday. Let’s make it a vegetable pizza today…

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