There are many signs that point to the idea that I should be living a lonely life. A life where I will neither be getting married nor have children whatsoever.
The tiger will eat the chicken. It is waiting to pounce and devour the poor little innocent chicken. That’s why the chicken must fly far far away. Away from the evil that will consume the little chicken. It is a trap! Run for your lives!
A writer is a lonely entity. A writer does what he or she needs to do in solitude. Away from people. The writer talks to air. Talks in writing. Sleeps a little bit too much to dream and be in that world where good is all there is.
The writer’s destiny is to be alone in his room writing and thus I will accept my fate as the Lonely Writer. At least Snoopy and his gang will be here with me.