Lots of things can be said about isolation, solitude, aloneness, or whatever "being by your self" means. Where everything that occurs becomes private to one's self. But still I feel all private experiences are some how shared between the physical realities of the body and the essence of the inner self (or soul), because these are two different states of we. By now I’ve learned to live with my self’s realities: all non-conscious and unseen actions, which fill my time when I’m alone.

I always catch my self either looking at my reflection (sometimes in a most creative way) or trying to find some form of quiet sedation, either one is a habitual ritual and each always reminds me of who I am: a blue-eyed, skinny white boy with too many addictions. Well, that’s just a big generalization but remember this—image is how you’re seen in other eyes. Now, onto a new day.

What is the most private thing we have, besides secrets and lies, that only one person can share? Wouldn’t that thing, if asked on jeopardy, be perhaps, maybe, a dream? We all can see the TV and we can all share an experience, or know what we mean, but only one person knows of his/her dream. Sure, one can tell it, as I often do. But again, no one except myself was in my head and visioned what sometimes feels so real. Boy, I’ve had some crazy fuck’n dreams and that’s all I have to say about my own private…I don’t know.

C.C.Rediker

#poetry