Blackbird Singing

When faced with the crushing emptiness of everything, what do rational human beings do?
..They mope...
Apparently, someone once said that even the white in the painting has meaning..Really?Well then what is it?
Is it there to antagonize the colour? Is it there to enhance the poignancy of the brush strokes? Why?..And what if the whole paper is white and empty?What then?...
Oh no, I'm carrying a metaphor too far..I hate it when that happens...There's nothing more annoying or more preachy than a metaphor thats been carried too far...Yuck...I shall try and approach this mental dilemma from a new angle.
Actually, its not a dilemma, its more that I've been wondering, if there is nothing more to life than the selfish and single pointed pursuit of happiness...If thats all there is, then its got to be pretty boring eh?
How do people live for 70 years without wanting to kill themselves atleast twenty times?..I'm thinking that the only way this happens, is that people keep thinking that if they just put off suicide for a little longer, then life will suddenly miraculously become meaningful and exciting..And then they wait, and they wait, and then suddenly they're so wrapped up in worldly entanglements that they can no longer afford to get out, and then even more hastily,they're old, and then they die..
Wow.
What the hell am i writing? I dont even think its making sense...I have to stop writing this stuff so late at night, because invariably I'm too sleepy to make sense.
Tonight as I was driving home, I swear there was this really spooky air about everything..The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon stormy seas, and all that..
Everything was suffused in this atmosphere of mystery and nostalgia..Its kind of hard to explain..The roads were darker than normal, and the few houses that were lit, seemed to exist on the edge of a memory...Everything, reminded me of something I had seen before, or somewhere that I'd been before, and in a wierd way, reminded me also of some place that I'm going to be soon...
I'm very scared of always being alone..Not that I'm alone now.Yet, there is this constant fear of going through life with only myself, and never being able to verify that everything that I think and feel is true, or is real..The night in its own haunting way seemed to fortell many years of driving down dark streets, wondering what the world is, and where I fit into it all.
I can't explain the nostalgia though, I'm too young to feel this nostalgic about anything, and yet, the feeling of something that I had left behind somewhere ran crazy circles around my head. And it wouldn't let me go, like an old friend who persistently demands an explanation for my lack of correspondence over the years...And somewhere, I felt guilty for leaving and not keeping in touch, for being so uncaring and so arrogant and thinking that I could manage everything on my own anyway.
Epiphany.
I'm only alone because I shrug off every commitment, and its only my pride that makes me think that no one would ever understand who I am, and what I'm saying, so I dont even give people chances, and maybe I just don't believe that anyone would bother themselves so much trying to cope with me...And maybe I like it this way...
This is the only way that I know to be free, because God forbid that I should be tied to anything or anyone...It would never do for me, eh? Thats how I've lived my life this far, and I havent even bothered to try anything else..Why?..Because I think I'm happy this way, or atleast I'm at peace this way.
In the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

The Beatles definitely knew what they were talking about when they wrote this one.