Solitude/Neighbors

I believed that solitude was a cure all, a psychic panacea, an invisible knife certain to cut me clear of all parental debates, the wasted time, the drivel school, the unending parade of cars and machinery;
I'd believe that solitude would free me and, alone and independent, I would make myself into the person I wanted to be.
But solitude, I found was no guarantee of anything.
And so I learned what solitude really was. It was raw material, awesome, malleable, older than men or worlds of water.
It was merciless for it let a man become precisely what he alone made of himself.
One needed either wisdom or tree bark insensitivity to confront such a fearsome freedom.