Dear Javairia/ java:

I am fine, thank you for asking and for your words regarding Hunter. I still miss him. I am sorry to read that you didn’t find quality therapy yet, but I appreciate it that you tried.

“I happened to come back to this thread tonight..  for the reason I created this thread. I was spiraling into this ‘chronic isolation‘ of mine..  I have people on my phone who want to talk to me every day… Maybe all those people who want to talk to me don’t understand me..  There’s also a cup of finished tea on my table, which my roommate made for me as I was craving my traditional tea today”-

– your roommate understood that you craved traditional tea and she did something about it, she made the tea you craved. That was a break from your chronic isolation, wasn’t it? Maybe that break motivated you to return to your thread and talk to me. Or maybe it was Albert Camus’s chronic isolation that made you want a break from your own.

In his book The Stranger, the main character is Meursault who learns of the death of his mother, and takes time off from work to attend her funeral, but he shows no signs of grief or mourning that the people around him expect from someone in his situation. A quote from somewhere in the book: “Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday; I can’t be sure“.

You and I had this one thing in common, among other things, in regard to our mothers: their real or feigned attempted suicides. That in itself is enough to throw a child into a nothingness kind of emotional existence, an indifference, a place of void, of emptiness.. isn’t it?

anita