A recent, and mercifully short-lived, bout of existential loneliness seems to have been effectively curtailed. The soothing salves included port, marshmallows, tea, video games (Tomb Raider 3 and Silent Hill), sleep (replete with freaky dreams), and watching Slow TV (The Ghan: Australia's Greatest Train Journey).
Obviously, being afflicted with the malaise known as 'the human condition' - a condition which affects an overwhelming number of people - means that there is always the threat of existential loneliness (aka The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast) brewing somewhere below the nebulous place known as 'the surface'. However, I find that as the years move inextricably by, and the sands of time slowly swallow and digest me (with their gritty grains that frequently get caught in painful and hard to reach places), it becomes easier to subdue (and, possibly, vanquish) The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast.
Not that The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast serves no purpose, and thus needs to be entirely obliterated from the human world. The presence of The Hideous Beast in the human psyche, with its seeping slime and its terrifying tentacles, seems to provide some kind of motivation; though the configurations this motivation takes can be myriad and obscure, and often with a tendency for destruction rather than construction.
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