Preview of The Chance of Invincibility

Hello everyone! So, I was reviewing the first chapter of the book I’m currently working on, and I figured that I’d give everyone a sneak peek – a tiny preview if you will.

Now, this is still a first draft, and I haven’t even nearly finished the story, but I do rather like this very first page of the very first chapter. Check it out:

     I am alone.

     I have been alone for 6 months, now.

     Irrevocably alone? I hope not.

     Eternally alone? If there only was such a thing as an eternity, an endless continuity.

     Selectively alone? I think so.

     Depressingly alone? Probably.

    In my opinion, loneliness isn’t something that can be defined as “a complex and usually unpleasant emotional response to isolation”. It’s larger than that, isn’t it? It’s an esoteric, voluminous, void that essentially takes over the larger part of a persons life. There has never been a happy ending for someone who is completely, utterly, and dishearteningly, alone. There is no such thing as cheerfully isolated, or is there?

     Have I ever experienced loneliness? Unquestionably.

     Have I ever dreaded it? Perhaps.

     Have I ever relished in it? Can one even relish in seclusion?

     Am I lonely now? I’m doing this, so I guess it’s up to you to decide that.

     Perhaps there is something as blessedly alone? You can’t be expected to like everyone all the time. I mean, can people demand that you should constantly feel the ubiquitous presence of love, and completeness?  Or rather, people shouldn’t be expected to want to feel that all the time? What is so distasteful about being by yourself? Is it so iniquitous to want to be by yourself? I want to be by myself, so perhaps there is something wrong with me.

     Am I writing this surreptitiously? I’m not sure.

     Am I writing this openly? Define openly.

     Am I writing this biasedly? Anyone who has ever written anything has done so biasedly, have they not?

     Should I even be writing this? You tell me.

     I have often pondered over my emotions, perhaps more than I should have. However, I can’t help but come to the conclusion the concept of defining my emotions, such as loneliness, is a waste of my time. Why do I need to define what I’m feeling? Can’t I just feel what I feel, and you feel what you feel, and everyone just feeling what they’re feeling by their selves? I mean, why does everyone need to know what feelings mean? Shouldn’t the point of feelings be its elusiveness?

So… what do you think? Should I just give up writing all together because of my obvious “suckieness”? Tell me what you think in the comments section below!

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