Next, to keep that static from getting louder, I started telling myself that it wasn’t my fault, what was happening to me — it wasn’t my fault that I hadn’t reached out to or interacted with any of the nearly one million other people who live here in this city or who ride the same bus as me or work out at my gym; it wasn’t my fault that my apartment felt like a morgue; it wasn’t my fault that I’d stopped texting people back and ventured to and from work via wordless Uber rides, and ordered all my dinners in. The problem was that I was isolated — both physically and in that ethereal way other people likely wouldn’t understand — and in that isolation, I was helpless.
The Irony of Loneliness
Dan Moore
1.2K48

Ah, yes. The classic victim mentality.

Anyway, I’ve been reading tutorials and documentations about programming here on Medium that I forgot the feeling of reading a story from a writer (well, technically, the others are writers, too, but you know what I mean). This is awesome! I hope I can write like this, too.

Keep it up!

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.