It has been a short life. In the relative scheme of things, I am still young. But not to me. To me, it seems as if every minute of my existence has been an eternity.
My name, you ask? I have forgotten it, so long it seems since it was last used. The others call me Sola. It means alone. Like Solitude. I don't interact with them much. I prefer not to have to deal with their trivial problems. Not now.
They live in denial, you see. The believe that if they go on with their "normal" lives and with the trivialities of their existence, that will save them. But they are only avoiding the problem.
Not that there is anything to be done about it, of course. The problem is too vast now for us to solve it. So they deny its existence.
When they first came to this place they called be another name. It has been so long since it was used that I have forgotten it. They most likely have, as well. They asked me to live with them, to join their community, their "village," as they called it. They wanted me to spend time with them, to share meals with them.
"What is the point?" I has asked them. "We will all be dead soon. It will all be over, soon."
"But why dwell on it?" they had replied. "Live life free of the worries and the soul will be free."
I had laughed at that. They had thought me strange then. They still do. They most likely will, forever. But they accepted me in my strangeness. After I declined politely their first requests to join me in their holidays or feasts or get-togethers, they ceased to ask.
No. Their strength comes from togetherness. Mine comes from solitude.
"Doesn't it drive you crazy, always being alone all the time?" a girl had once asked me, long ago. I had only laughed and replied that I was already crazy. Had been for years. I was far beyond crazy.
Most of them didn't understand me. When they saw me, by chance, near the river, they stammered and stared and shook. Few managed to speak aloud. Most merely stared as though they could not make sense of my existence. For them, their community is everything.
At first their stares and confusion frightened me. Then, it amused me to some extent. Now, I feel nothing. I have forgotten how.
Deep inside my soul, if I still posses one, I do feel. Underneath years of solitude. I had no need for feelings. Being alone, there was no one to see you cry or laugh. So there was no point in feeling the emotions or performing the actions alone. Today I have forgotten how.
And I shall forever be alone. In solitude. Sola. My strength is in my aloneness. My solitude.
Soon it will no longer matter. The problems my people refused to deal with in years past will overcome us in the future. Leaving me - and the others - to deal with the sins of our ancestors.
They will bear them together. I will face them apart.
