love still lives here.

"We do not meet one another as persons in the several aspects of our total life, but know one another only fractionally, as the man who fixes the car, or as that girl who serves our lunch, or as the woman who takes care of our child at school. The humanistic reality of others does not, cannot, come through." C.Wright Mills

As i sit crossed legged on the rickety wooden chair surrounded by others, I have never felt more alone. sometimes i wish everyone would stop pretending to be busy and just be with each other already, like dance or talk, or whatever. how can people so close to oneself feel so unattached like we are each wrapped up in our own world it's like we are on different planets, you know? it makes for sad days. wouldn't it be lovely if everywhere we went people were just.. friendly and nice? not that sugary fake shit. but just.. there. like really there. i'm so tired of everyone always leaving, always rushing off to somewhere like they are never content where they are, right now? sometimes i talk relly fast in hope that I'll say at least one interesting thing to make that person stay. why must one always be entertained? 

i read somewhere that silence created intimacy. if that's true,  that's maybe why we are afraid of it, the deafening silence. we'd all be united in solitude, sans voices and things that distract us. it seems we're too afraid of what we may find in the silence so we deafen it out with constant noise. by reveling in nothingness we may actually find something interesting about ourselves or the person next to us. embracing that vulnerability is realer than the acts we put on each day.