I just want to make beautiful things, even if nobody cares.

I think that's a quote from graphic designer Saul Bass. His quote is all over pinterest in bright colors that look not a thing like the man himself. I looked him up. He is old and not quite portly but seemingly kind. He was rather unimpressive in his first video talking about why you should draw. His second video was no more impressive. It was the one from which the quote comes. It was not much more spectacular than the other, just some musings on how your customers and your audience may not understand why you take the time to make something beautiful... but it doesn't matter because you don't really do it for them.

That is good but it kind of let me down. I was hoping for a more verbose explanation, for something a little more inspiring... I guess I was hoping for something I could connect with a little better. I mean, I connect intellectually and experientially with all of that. It just doesn't do much to answer The Loneliness.

How do I describe The Loneliness in terms that are both honest and accurate? Bold and gentle? All of my life, there has been this loneliness that seeps into the cracks. It is this feeling of otherness and of not belonging, of always being unmistakably foreign. I used to wander off from time with friends just to listen to the quiet, to greet the loneliness, and to try to understand it. The Loneliness goes back much further than that too, to years before school. Maybe I learned it from my father. And maybe it just found me one day while I was playing in the woods. I do not know when it came or where it came from, only that I have almost always known it. It gets stronger when I give too much away to people. I have to remember that. I have to keep an eye on The Loneliness. It gets hard to be alone if I have not done it in awhile. I forget what it will feels like, forget that I don't have to be afraid of it, forget that this is normal in some way.

I suppose that it is no more dangerous than happiness is. It is a lot less distracting than the race of daily life. But I forget all of this. Sometimes I imagine that The Loneliness and I will grow old together. This is probably not a good aspiration since The Loneliness is also a liar. But I imagine that living a lifetime with The Loneliness will make me wise to all of his lies and all that will be left will be this tired familiarity, like old friends who don't have to try to be anything but themselves anymore, who have seen the very ugly pieces snuggle up to the purest of qualities and intentions of one another.

Still, The Loneliness presents a problem. I can never give into him. As I have said, he is a liar whispering that I will never be known or understood or cared for. He tells me that love is too high of a goal for people to meet and so I should never expect to be loved. I have lived a long time embracing these whispers as Truth. As I grow up, I learn how damaging it can be to the people closest to me if I never accept their efforts as love, if I always expect to be disappointed eventually, if I always cynically recite some sort of creed of how I would rather be surprised by love than let down by its lack.

It did sound like wisdom for awhile--this idea that if I do not expect or allow myself to need love then it will be a blessing when it arrives. And yet, the years have shown that if you make it so hard for people to love you, they will never succeed. This distant watching to see if someone is finally going to get it right only calculates all the ways they could have done it better. The Loneliness loves that. He wraps his cold arms around me and tries to act like the only friend I have left. He is greedy and selfish and he wants to help me be the same but he will call it 'protecting myself' or apply some other benign label.

The answer to the Loneliness is love. Lots of love. Love even The Loneliness. Somehow you have to hold hands with The Loneliness, not because I trust him or believe any of the lies but because there will be lonely days where everyone who understands has gone on vacation without you. There will be days and weeks when all of the love that you send out into the world comes back beaten, unrequited, and empty. It is ok to have those days and to feel lonely and to hurt. The Loneliness will be there then and he will tell you how he tried to save you from this, tried to warn you, tried to keep you safe. Hold hands with him then. Let the ache into your bones. Do not gloss over any of the pain. That will be as dangerous as embracing The Loneliness. If you embrace him, he will never leave and your arms will be too full to carry the weight of love. When The Loneliness has said all of the almost true things that he likes to say, he will recede slowly like a reluctant aunt who wishes you had taken her advice.

And you will be left to make beautiful things with arms full of love. Even if nobody cares.