the human state of lonely

emily dickinson's voluntary term of prolonged loneliness not only led to notable creative expression but also influenced the subject matter of her poems.

however, many of us are not lonely by choice.

a very human state, and a conscious one at that, it may seclude and isolate one from contact with other people. so you see, a very human state though it may be, it is the very device of separating one's soul from connection with the rest of the world.

unbearable. profound level. there's a difference between prolonged solitude for spiritual clarification and an unholy manifestation of emptiness and grief. yes, grief, because one grieves this severance of connection between minds and souls.

frequently occurs in populated cities. we feel cut off, empty, alone; and though crowds of faceless figures pass us in the street each day they remind us of our apparent misanthropy, an ailment from which we all seem to suffer - perhaps not wittingly.

i know that my heart moves in my chest, because i heard its persistent beating through a stethoscope. is that not enough proof? she recoils at physical touch, except for a surgeon's hands, keeps her distance, this mistrusting one. physiological symptoms: chest pain, nausea, sweats and overactivity of sympathetic nervous system.

existentially, loneliness is the essence of being human - part of the human condition. we are birthed, alone, and in the final hours we die alone. it is the puzzle of being contained within a body, a soul seen through veined eyes, an imagination enclosed (and perhaps restrained) by bone and skull.
she feels disengaged, no longer part of a perpetual universe...clinical loneliness? as a form of torture? solitary confinement, in a crowded room.