Solitude

I detest groups. It removes individualism from thoughts, and adds a false sense of comfort and ultimately dependence. They might be essential, for efficiency, for communication, but they should not be celebrated as much. Or maybe it’s just misanthropy.
I loved lying under open skies late night… figured, what better place to find answers?
The cold marble is welcoming, unearthly. Gazing at the stars, soon they started to warp.
The place warms up, I hear chants. Can’t see anything anymore, else might lose it all. Things seem to slow down, the world’s grip relaxed.
For a brief second, everything stops. Someone whispers over my shoulder, not understandable.
Then, nothing happens. I miss a beat, maybe.

There is something out of here that we are missing. I am sure of it. There are connections between our daily acts that we have failed to realize. And there is a method of determining them, of determining the recurrences of such acts to an impeccable degree. There is a destiny.

I fear I am losing touch. Yet, there never seemed to be one. Maybe that is the key.