posted December 22, 2007 10:21 AM
I've always been this way....ever since I can remember....although I've always enjoyed one-to-one, and good company now and then.I love both solitude and company....I'm just very picky about who I let into my life.....maybe too picky?
I feel my Dad and Stepmum have always been on at me to try and change me and make me somebody else....somebody more "normal" and outgoing, etc.
When my goth friend and I used to share a flat, I would occasionally, after a few drinks, become the complete opposite of my usual self.
But she was always the more popular one.
I wish there was a place I could escape to where I could meet fellow thinkers, poets, wanderers, dreamers, artists and "lost" souls......
I wish I could go to a nightclub where they could all meet together and where the music was incredible.....
These words by Byron are very good at illustrating just how I feel:
I would I were a careless child,
Still dwelling in my Highland cave,
Or roaming through the dusky wild,
Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave;
The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride
Accords not with the freeborn soul,
Which loves the mountain's craggy side,
And seeks the rocks where billows roll.
Fortune! take back these cultured lands,
Take back this name of splendid sound!
(edited)
Place me among the rocks I love,
Which sound to Ocean's wildest roar;
I ask but this - again to rove
Through scenes my youth hath known before.
Few are my years, and yet I feel
The world was ne'er designed for me:
Ah! why do dark'ning shades conceal
The hour when man must cease to be?
Once I beheld a splendid dream,
A visionary scene of bliss:
Truth! - wherefore did thy hated beam
Awake me to a world like this?
I had loves - but those I love are gone;
Had friends - my early friends are fled:
How cheerless feels the heart alone,
When all its former hopes are dead!
Though gay companions o'er the bowl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill'
Though pleasure stirs the maddening soul,
The heart - the heart - is lonely still.
How dull! to hear the voice of those
Whom rank or chance, whom wealth or power,
Have made, though neither friends nor foes,
Associates of the festive hour.
Give me again a faithful few,
In years and feelings still the same,
And I will fly the midnight crew,
Where boist'rous joy is but a name.
And woman, lovely woman! thou,
My hope, my comforter, my all!
How cold must be my bosom now,
When e'en thy smiles begin to pall!
Without a sigh would I resign
This busy scene of splendid woe,
To make that calm contentment mine,
Which virtue know, or seems to know.
Fain would I fly the haunts of men -
I seek to shun, not hate mankind;
My breast requires the sullen glen,
Whose gloom may suit a darken'd mind.
Oh! that to me the wings were given
Which bear the turtle to her nest!
Then would I cleave the vault of heaven,
To flee away, and be at rest.