The Advice of Loneliness

I like solitude, we keep good company. She tells me things that I transform into ideas for my lyrics; a set of experiences he lives with other people. She takes snippets of the past and turns them into a pleasant conversation that only I can understand.

She always surprises me with his good memories, for this entity is older than the first words that were generated in the past. He met so many people until he came to me, sitting in my armchair with a tight smile and his hands clasped together on his abdomen.

"How's life going for you?" She asked me again, I just rested my eyes on the window as if there was no one with me.

"I have ups and downs," I replied. "Sometimes I lose who I am."

"That's normal; your life is taking many turns. You transform fleetingly with each passing day and then return to your original form. Have you noticed?"

"Yes," I replied without any emotion.

"That's you now; sometimes soulless and sometimes you want to eat the world. You're an artist who feeds on suffering and beauty, but you can't bear the burden of an empty world, so you give up; you give in to what surrounds you and that makes you weak."

And I was silent in the face of that terrifying truth.

I have bound myself to a system in which I found relief and passion. I no longer recognize that they come attached! Did loneliness foretell the fear that stalks me? or was it simply a truth that slipped briefly from her lips?

"Take it on reflection, I am here to help you," he added. "I am the guardian herald who manifests for those who call upon me with their isolation. I help those who feed on the creativity and sleeplessness of beautiful strokes. Write me a story, oh writer, show me that my presence has not defeated you."

And I remembered passion, how far apart were we for me to become a statue? At what point did we stop sleeping together like two fervent lovers? The overwhelm was dispersing in my mind, loneliness had won, and I assimilated my fate.

I rose from my armchair, ignoring my guest. I sat down in front of my desk; naked of inhibitions. I exposed a smile, passion was waiting for me, to make love to her with the first letters of that day.