No Man Is An Island

I’m an introvert.  I value my alone time.  But too much alone time is good for no one.  This has become glaringly obvious since I moved to a new city seven months ago.

I’ve become a hermit.  The brutal winter hasn’t help.  My current job as a writer, lends itself to social isolation.  Overall, I just haven’t been able to meet that many people.  And most certainly haven’t been able develop any worthwhile friendships.

The result of this social isolation hasn’t been pretty.  My social skills, which weren’t great in the first place, are further deteriorating.  Even in simple conversation I notice myself becoming weird and aspergery.   

In part, I have done this to myself.  In the last five years, I have been jumping from place to place chasing phantoms.  Most friendships over those years were  short lived.  I have lost contact with old friends, and haven’t made any real attempt to rekindle them even when they have.

If you think this is my way of gaining pity points.  It’s not.  It’s a warning.  If you feel yourself falling into a pit of social isolation nip it in the bud.  Get out and make some real friends or rehash old friendships.  Don’t become the hermit.  There is nothing romantic in being the lone wolf.  No man is an island.

In prison the highest form of punishment is solitary confinement a.k.a “the hole.”  This means prisoners would rather be around rapists and murders than left to themselves.  If that doesn’t show you how much we need other people than I don’t what will.


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