Another segment of thoughts

Life is a masquerade night. You wear a mask all the time and keep on
changing it as well. Bright yellow, violent blue, sparkly red, dusty
brown, lustful black; they are all there. But what happens when the
simple string of the mask starts hurting your skin? Remove it and you
find yourself all alone.
The day you stop following the rules; solitude becomes your lover. The
world either condemns you or leaves you alone to brood in your place.
You may go crazy understanding the departure of fake friends and
loveless lovers. But time, the great god, makes you come into an
agreement with it. Solitude enters your skin. And you reach a stage
when you embrace it totally.
How can words express this state of mind? How can words express the
dialectics of solitude? How can you convince that in this world full
of people you really have no one to call? It feels like being a lonely
fish. Small, tender but outcaste.

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