We all die alone.
No matter the effort behind others’ words, no matter the attempts to make us believe we are safe, loved, or understood; in the end, they cannot follow us. We each face the final journey by ourselves. Even in the brightest moments of shared love, companionship, or community, we walk alone. Alone in our struggles, as others can’t truly comprehend our burdens. Alone in our fears, as they settle undisturbed in our minds. Alone in our moments of triumph, as the nature of the beast does not allow the full glory to be shared. Ever alone.
I was abandoned as a young boy by my father, rejected by two wives, and cast aside by unscrupulous company leaders and business partners. Friends and family left, yet somehow, I still hoped for the best in humanity. I found a broken soul; a woman I vowed to live for, despite the futility I sometimes feel. My mind, however, struggles to fight for her in the way she needs, and that guilt hangs heavy. But she comes closer than anyone else to offering the truth of care, love, and humility. She, too, has faced darkness, been broken, beaten, and damned by life. We built a life together from the pieces of our shared brokenness, numbing the pain with moments of joy.
Then, I stood up for others again, as I always do, and even that was stripped away. I found another escape, a vision of a new life free from the burdens of a capitalistic world that often feels built on fraud and aggression. I sought out a village where we could exist among “salt of the earth” people. But the truth was harsher. Their world was just as full of division, hatred, and bitterness. Their leaders wore the guise of faith, speaking hate and judgment while hiding behind Christianity, diverting their brokenness by tearing others down.
Once again, it wasn’t me who suffered directly, but those I care about. I had dreams for my queen, a vision of what our life could be, our efforts at building something rooted in love and simplicity. And again, I felt it all ripped away, as though love, in its purest form, was always just out of reach. So I ask myself, when does this madness stop? Why are there no more warriors for those who are broken? How will this world stop its cycle of self-destruction?
Religion organizes mobs, turning those who don’t fit its narrative into targets for self-righteous attack. Politics divide us by race, by sex, by economic position, deepening the fractures. Capitalism sows jealousy and breeds hatred. Even families crumble, torn apart by an obsession with personal gain and fleeting validation. Where has love gone in this world? Those who attempt to live by love are swiftly pulled into the scarring melee, forced to fight, or risk dying alone. Ironic, because that solitary end is all that remains, despite every desperate attempt to connect.
Dying alone feels like a lonely fate, but in reality, it may be the only peace we’ll ever know. The solitude of our final moments may offer the only freedom from the pain of betrayal, judgment, and rejection. As a warrior for my queen, I press on. But even this feels like a futile chase, a journey toward some impossible ideal, because she, too, will ultimately face her battles alone. And I, in turn, will stand alone in mine.
Sometimes, I wish for an apocalypse; a cleansing end to all this misery. Maybe in death, I could finally rest. Not because I’ve lost hope, but because I could at last let go. And yet, here I am, clinging to that persistent hope, continuing to try. I use the gifts I’ve been given to make small changes, no matter the loneliness that persists. I will die alone, but it won’t matter. Because, in a way, I have already been dying alone every single day.
Despite the loneliness, I still fight. I still hope. And every day, even as I face the same isolation, I choose to create, to love, to try. Maybe the world isn’t ready for warriors like us, those who fight for broken souls and try to make sense of a seemingly senseless world. But that won’t stop me from trying, from loving, from creating. Maybe one day, it will make a difference; even if that difference is a small spark in the dark. A small spark for those who, like me, refuse to give up, even while knowing the fight may ultimately be a solitary one.
Somedays are easier to love your fate than others, but nonetheless…
Amor Fati
