A baseball diamond, a movie theatre, an ice cream parlor, two dollars for a ticket, 30 cents for a cone. These things so close to him in youth felt even closer to him in adulthood, because he yearned for them but they could have been as far away as the North star, or at the dock of an ancient sea pressed against a foreign land. He could not return to youth. There was no there there any longer. Every night the hunger to slip off the face of the earth pulled at him. He wanted to get lost in the streets of America but he didn’t want to be alone. He saw the lights of the jazzy places, the bright marquees above the pubs and cafes filled with people, just hoping someone would invite him in. Being alone was Hell. He couldn’t turn memory into reality, and because he pledged himself to the fraternity of dreamers he would never graduate with those fraternity of doers. He searched for words, words that calmed, words that reassured, words about bleeding peace and renascent love, that reminded him of his profession as a man of the sword. He swooped into an archway, leaned against its door. He spoke aloud to himself some sad, pained words, his worried confessions gave him a certain comfort. He was a man seeking sanctuary, a soul in crisis, an abortion of peace, a bastard of war, a broken bird.
Not every man or woman struggles the same. Whatever you’re going through do not give up hope. Keep fighting. Be willing to admit why you cannot get healthy and what prevents you from healing. Men who believe that love is not enough to save them from loneliness refuse to accept its their greater desire for isolation that makes the loneliness so.
“Even the smallest of men is able to cast the longest of shadows for it depends on the time of day and where he stands.”
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