When I am feeling very alone and like I am imploding, collapsing in on myself, I often have to remind myself of the brute fact of them. In other words, the presence of something–indeed, the impression of something–closes up that whole issue. At that point the only thing left of this rational black hole is the feelings, and who knows where those originate from.
I carry around the problem and the solution simultaneously. All the time.
Shel Silverstein pointedly captured this in his poem, Nobody.
By Shel Silverstein
Nobody loves me,
Nobody picks me peaches and pears.
Nobody offers me candy and Cokes,
Nobody listens and laughs at my jokes.
Nobody helps when I get in a fight,
Nobody does all my homework at night.
Nobody misses me,
Nobody thinks I’m a wonderful guy.
So if you ask me who’s my best friend, in a whiz,
I’ll stand up and tell you that Nobody is.
But yesterday night I got quite a scare,
I woke up and Nobody just wasn’t there.
I called out and reached out for Nobody’s hand,
In the darkness where Nobody usually stands.
Then I poked through the house, in each cranny and nook,
But I found somebody each place that I looked.
I searched till I’m tired, and now with the dawn,
There’s no doubt about it—