You lie close to my heart. We are two of a kind. Kindred spirits. I hold you close to keep warm. I love you.
Oh, but I am, by nature, cold and alone; and truthfully, I have no need of you. I indulge in you when I am tired and sick. You mask the human psychology from me, but, oh! how I know the human mind. I am it. I sleep with you, oh Misanthropy, but I do not go out into the day with you. My actions contradict our love, though not always my words. Isn’t that how love always is?
Misanthropy, my friend, you are not my friend, but how shall I make you understand? My path is not your path, yet together we walk, hand-in-hand.
Note: Several of my personal diary entries over the years are titled, “Dear Misanthropy.” I have decided to share one here.