On the saddest men...

The saddest of men find them selves functioning on autopilot trapped in their ritualistic, addictive behaviors. They congregate to the watering hole. Here they desperately try to quench their thirst. Not for alcohol, or for sex and love. No. Not for acceptance, appreciation, admiration, or adoration either. The saddest of men keep coming back because they have to. They HAVE to! If they did not listen to their addictions and their rituals, they would be forced to hear themselves. But, what they would hear would be a bone-chilling silence. It is in this silence that fear pulsates through there body like lightning. This silence exists because they have forgotten themselves. They left themselves a long time ago. They gave up on themselves a long time ago. They let the rituals, the habits and the addictions lead them. Soon to find out (although only subconsciously) that although there may be comfort in consistency, there is no growth in being absent. Absent from the world. But, mostly absent from themselves.

I am a sad man. I know many a sad men. I am fortunate enough to not be among the saddest of men. The sad can still hear something when forced to be alone in their thoughts. They may not listen but they can still hear something in the silence. The saddest are void of even a decibel of thought.

Daily I encounter the saddest of men. Not all men. Not all the time. But often.
I get lost in their sadness. Not all the time. But some of the time.
I miss them even though I never knew them before they lost themselves.
Other times I praise myself, judge them, and hold them up as an example of "what shouldn't be." Like a true pretentious asshole.

Most of the time I avoid them and their sadness. In hopes that if I run far enough away I won't encounter it again. Only to realize I might leave myself behind in the process. If I were to do that I would be one step closer to that depth of sadness. I would soon hear nothing.

I intend to hear and to listen. To hear and try to listen. In my sadness I want to hear joy lingering in my silences. In my joy I want to listen to my silent sadness.