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The full splendour of solitude is never evident except to those whose voices are never heard. Not even in the realm of blogs. The loneliness of pain. The loneliness of utter old age. The loneliness of failure. The helpless isolation of the spoke in a wheel. Solitude comes in many flavours. Emptiness is just one of its many faces. There is also the heavy stuff. The one that crushes you down. The odd thing is most of the time you are surrounded by faceless humanity. But who cares. It is the other guy after all, not you.

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Maybe loneliness implies detachment. This is not what an old comment on this blog says. It says loners are basically asocial beings with some hidden grudge in thier minds. I don't think so. May be there are loners of that version out there. But detachment is the phrase that has been on my mind for some days now. The true meaning of detachment is way beyond me. Embracing emotions, experiences. I don't know. May there is something in that.
First I learned there are other loners out there. Then I learned there are people out there who care. People who actually seem to be concerned about you. And all the time I had assumed a sort of worthlessness which now seems to be, well, rather disproportionate. Sure, I knew there are nice people in this world. I never knew there were great people. Ok, I am not talking about GREAT people, you know. I am talking about the ordinary people with the spark of greatness in them. What can be greater than caring about a fellow human being whom you don't even know.
What is normal? I am not normal. Every one says so. I know it myself. What I don't know is, what is normal anyway. Everything is the same. For me. For them. But then how come I am the one who is not normal ! Beats me.