“The existential human condition is such a tragic state, one must either laugh or cry, but one cannot remain neutral. One must feel compassion for all of us weak, deluded humans.”
Why do we crave—to the point where it causes physical stress—a witness? Why do we want to walk side-by-side with another person, preferably one perceived as an equal partner, as an intimate witness to our lives, twenty-four hours a day? We don’t want to be alone—isolation has been shown to be emotionally and physically damaging—we want a sympathetic witness: an impartial but understanding reflection of our view.
It’s almost like we want an external conscience—a breathing, walking, friendly, supportive, even sexual presence. I see this craving in myself and in others, and I see how hard it drives us, often to outrageous lengths. Look at people who become stars. How hard they work just to ensure they always have interested companions!
I think we are deeply insecure about our reality. “Do I really exist? Do I exist the way I see myself, or is that just something I’m creating?” Well…
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Sixty and Single Again 