On Being Alone, Part I
December 4, 2011 § 1 Comment
I am alone. I am alone in the woods. I forget what day it is. I go many days without seeing anyone. I drove into the nearest town recently just to buy a notepad I didn’t even need just so I could have an interaction. It went like this:
“That all for you?”
“Need a receipt?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Have a good one.”
It was wonderful.
The days are harder than the nights. It gets easier as it gets dark. The night is less lonely, for some reason. Maybe because at night is when one is expected to be alone, or more alone. The day is when you are supposed to be out in society, doing things with people. Maybe because the animals are out at night. I can hear the owls and the geese. They comfort me. Because of this, the hours I keep have gotten progressively stranger, and I am now basically nocturnal.
I am producing a lot of creative stuff, which was the point of this. But it is hard. I have to fight it. It has become less of an inspired thing and more of a way to distract myself from the loneliness, a way to pass the time until it is completely dark and I start to feel better.
I am thankful for my cat, for he is my only companion. I don’t know what I’d do without him. And I am thankful for the radio. I am thankful for voices coming to me over a magical box. I talk back to them sometimes.
Most of all I miss laughing. It is much harder to laugh by yourself than it is to laugh with other people. Company is for laughing.
Then again, I am also getting used to it. Maybe that is dangerous. Sometimes I take a sip of tea, breathe in my solitude and I remember how scary it can be, to be with others, sometimes.