How alone can one be?

Would it be better to be the last man on Earth or to be the loneliest man at the park that day?

You just passed him by. You didn’t even notice.

He’s been alone all his life, but surrounded by anonymous faces. Faces he’ll never see again. Your face is just another in the crowd. You look back, but he’s gone.

Is it lonelier to be at the edge of the world, on a distant outpost, in the Antarctic, alone for months, away from everyone you’ve known for ages, and you’ll be alone for months ahead… you have loved ones you miss, or next year you might start a family, but right now they are literally half a world away;

Or to be in a lively, international city; sitting at a popular bar; with loud music and happy people all around you; but no one can have a conversation… it’s too loud and it’s way too impersonal; and everyone is just yelling their political opinions at each other if they’re talking at all; and who the hell wants to talk to these assholes anyway?

Who is lonelier?

You know it’s neither.

It’s that poor fucker no one ever notices. He’s not the weird guy at the park. She’s not the one sitting in her apartment with her cats. He’s the one you don’t see. He’s invisible to you and me. We both looked passed him on our way to where ever the fuck we thought was important that day.