Like some small animal left behind in a land where predators abound, tragedy emits its lonely cries.
The horror and hurt are compelling and yet where no one hears, the cries are emptied of their meaning ... except to the the small animal left behind.
When "tragedy" is the topic, many may listen and wax sympathetic, but isn't the same true of other, more joyful experiences as well?
Can experience, good or bad, be improved somehow by the warming nearness of kith and kin? With or without the company, there is a loneliness that can insist. "Sharing is caring" ... or is it? Choosing to be depressed about all this is just a choice.
Am I wrong or is it true: Everyone's experience is a "tempest in a teapot" to someone else. It's not a matter of parsimony or meanness, it's just that there is only so much anyone can heap on his or her plate in a day and some things are given back-burner status. War, for example, is massively important and yet, at the moment, there is a splinter in my thumb.
No small animal left behind ever sees the situation as a "tempest in a teapot," a matter of little import. My experience may be a "tempest in a teapot" to you and perhaps yours is to me as well. More likely, we each lend what help we can without fully knowing the extent of the other's tempest.
But what I wonder today is whether the "tempest in a teapot" that is me is all that necessary? I'm not suggesting it is and I'm not suggesting it's not. I'm just asking. If the dots are already connected, what loneliness could any dot reasonably assert?
Another tempest in a teapot, I suspect.