Message in a bottle

A chilling truth has dawned upon my mind. I am alone. I was always alone, and I will always be alone. I will die alone. And so will everyone else.

There is no way to share experiences between people. Art? No. It's not nearly direct enough. No way to share an idea fully, to share an emotion with someone and the whole state of your mind.

We are doomed to forever be alone by our very nature.

No man's an island? Fucking bullshit. 

So what do you do when you come to this devastating realization? What can you possibly do? 

Send messages.

We have to get good at sending messages. It's the only thing that survives. Chopin is still alive in a sense through his art, through his messages.

I guess that's the reason's I'm writing this blog in the first place.

Walked out this morning I don't believe what I saw
A hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone in being alone 
A hundred billion castaways looking for a home