You may want to read a novel called "To a God Unknown" by the American writer, John Steinbeck.This is the sixth part of my short story, The Lonely Wolf. Please would you correct my mistakes.
I knew that if I wanted to survive and stay sane, I had to make friends. However, other human beings were out of the question. I was tired of them; they were predictable; they were products of the system that does not care about feelings and spirituality. They were chasing money and commodities, not understanding that they themselves had become expendable and disposable. They believed they were free, but instead, they were prisoners of goals and ideals forced upon them by the (some - since the power is not described) invisible power. Gradually, they were mutating into zombies, forgetting their humanity. I could not risk being ridiculed by such people. I did not want to suffer another humiliation, another disappointment.
My true friends were just a few meters from my flat, although I did not notice them at the beginning. I woke up one morning, feeling depressed and anxious. If someone opened my door and told me he was going to kill me, I would have hugged that person as a saviour and told him to do the job properly and fast. Nevertheless, I knew that nobody was going to open my door; nobody was going to ease my suffering. Even the killers gave people of my kind a wide berth.
My flat felt like a coffin; I was going to suffocate. I dressed myself and went outside. The morning was busy with my neighbours rushing to their jobs, some of them dragging their children to the day care centre (If there is more than one center, and there probably is, use "centers"). At the bus stop, more than a dozen people were queuing in silence, waiting for the already overcrowded busses. I could never join them. I would get a panic attack and alight at the next stop. I
wouldcould never manage to be close to so many bodies and feel their heat and (smell their) odours. I could not walk the streets either. I would feel the eyes behind the windscreens watching me carefully, and their fingers pointing at me. You cannot just take a stroll at this time of the day. It is an anomaly. You are supposed to hurry to your job, to pay your taxes, to build the country, to create more businesses, more goods, higher GDP.... You are not supposed to ruminate and ask questions, you are not supposed to doubt, because those who doubt cannot be part of the collective.
I fled into the forest. I walked fast, away from human beings and habitations. The deeper I went, the better I felt. Soon, the noise of civilisation completely disappeared. Instead, I could hear the chirping and twittering of birds and the buzzing of insects. They were like the most beautiful music to
memy ears. I could breathe normally and fill my lungs with the fresh, scented air. The branches above me felt like arms, ready to hug me, protect me and comfort me. Suddenly, my pain seemed to have disappeared. My heart was throbbing with joy. For the first time afterin years, I did not feel lonely. This is where I belong, I told myself. This is my true home, this is where my roots are, my connection with the universe.
I would return to the forest every day, even if the weather was dreadful. I was like a teenager infatuated with his first love. I did not care if I was hungry or thirsty, or if I got blisters on my feet. I wanted to rest my eyes upon the gracious, slender birches, towering spruces, and ancient oaks. I wanted to amble among the beautiful flowers: blue anemones, orchids, and violets. All this vegetation was new for me, but at the same time, I felt it as the land of my birth, innocent, unspoiled, pure and generous. At the beginning, I wandered the old, well-trodden paths, and then, I became bolder and went where there were no traces of human activity. I was never afraid of being lost or being attacked by an animal. I knew that there must have been bears and wolves roaming these parts, but they avoided me, or our paths did not cross. I had imagined meeting my brother wolf one day. I saw him watching me with his wolfish eyes, sniffing the air to determine whether I was a friend or an enemy, and then walking towards me to greet me, to meet his brother wolf in a human body. How we would howl together and tell each other stories about our loneliness and suffering! How we would feel warmth and love for each other! We would separate crying and howling but promise to meet again.
TO BE CONTINUED