Intimacy & Literature

Sometimes, it's better to be brief.

I'm finding that a life without intimacy is not worth living. There must be some moment of honesty, when you can bear your soul to another human being without their retreat. There must be a person who will catch your tears in the palm of their hands and bear the weight of the world in each drop.

There is something disconcerting in revealing your true self to a world which does not care. Something completely wrong about walking through life alone.

In the past few months, I've found that intimacy and literature are the only things which make my life bearable. And, I don't have a single honestly intimate relationship left. So, now I am wondering if literature alone can make life worth living.

I am not certain. I have my doubts.