Loneliness puts a special burn on sunsets and makes the night air smell better.

I’m alone again.

There’s nothing but the whirring of the ice machine in the refrigerator and the spinning of my thoughts to keep me company. I almost forgot what it felt like.

I like being alone.

There’s a bittersweet satisfaction that comes from being alone. When you’re alone, no one can judge you for whatever thoughts tumble around in your head or whatever words slip from between your pursed lips. When you’re alone, all emotion carried decidedly pungent odor and the feelings stick in your soul like molasses in January. When you’re alone, you can truly figure out whether or not you are good company.

The name lights up on the screen on my phone and my faint smile betrays me as I quickly answer the text. The weird part is this though: however close I am to the person texting me, I am still miles away from them.

My loneliness intensifies. Contact without actually being touched is one of the coldest things ever and I can feel my alone-ness trailing its icy fingers down my spine.

I like being alone as much as I like being with my friends. I’m not sure why this is so hard to comprehend; but then again, I suppose I will never understand those who will fill their time with shiftless, empty relationships because they would rather hear someone else’s voice fill the silence than their own echoing in an empty room.

I like hearing my fingers chatter on the keys and I like receiving hugs from my fluffy blue blanket. I like listening to my own heartbeat thumping as I burn my tongue on Earl Grey tea. I like the general stillness. When I’m alone, life is like an undisturbed puddle and I can stare into for as long as I want. If I truly want to, I can dip my finger in the center and admire the rings that spurt forth. And if I’m really feeling adventurous, I can splash in it with colorful rainboots and admit to being entropy’s messenger.

Better still, I can do nothing at all except look at my reflection and wonder how this next year is going to turn out.

I’m alone again. Regrettably, at least for tonight, I wouldn’t want it any other way.


2 thoughts on “Loneliness puts a special burn on sunsets and makes the night air smell better.

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