Whatever Was My Reason For Being a Loner

What was my reason for being a loner, for giving up on dreams and for ceasing to exist? There was eagerness when youth began, there's was no absence of cheer, all was quite perfect! Unexpectedly, hope grew with time and I regained the tremendous loss of confidence, and rejected the bitterness that I brought on myself; being sad isolated me from others who knew why did he choose loneliness and distance... and stole glances of ownness from people without a clue? Why he never understood that reality could have brought him low, compelling him to deny his existence and be called a deriding elf? And through his denial, all brightness was reduced to a glow! What was my reason for being a loner, having no will to step outside, but hide in a dungeon without drifting air? Was gloominess a wish... something to chide, or perpetual anguish? I've lived the longest life and wondered if death was a relief or punishment on our mortal kind; and losing senses with an expiring breath meant be no longer part of the living striding across the earth, but entering a dimension where the body that became dust couldn't transcend the naive perception that immortality was not earned by cunning and stealth... only the one who was able to discern it got this reward!