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  • Kim

All Alone Together

We are all messed up.

Every one of us.

We are a product of our raising and every good, bad, or ugly thing that has happened to us. We have been blessed and distressed and overwhelmed. We have bad habits and we love poorly and we are selfish and greedy and kind in the most unexpected times.

Photo credit: Gwenaël Piaser on VisualHunt / CC BY-NC-SA

We are utterly human and always trying to do better. We have dreams and goals and often despair that anything is going to become of those before we die.

And we look at our loved ones sometimes and despair that we cannot tell them, really tell them, how much we love them. We try with words gestures and objects and plans, but sometimes there are no words, no objects, no plans, that express the life-shattering love we have for them.

We are angry and aggressive and killers and lovers and we wonder how we’re going to get through this life. We worry about our health and our loved ones’ health and taxes and how we can move our life forward just a little bit more ... just a little ... bit ... more. And we are tired. We ache and we hurt and we work that way all the time. We wake up exhausted, but we get up and do what we have to do again and again and again. We think we are the only ones who have ever felt this exact way, and we are wrong. We think—constantly—that we’re going to “get our lives together” at some point in the future, but we never really do.

Not for long, anyway. We are not them. They are not us. We are us, all the same.

We’re human, we're frail, we’re fallible. We are all trying to muddle through from dawn until dusk and from birth until death, best way we can.

All alone together.

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