I call these days my moments of solitude, but I search for your words about solitude, to enrich the experience of feeling it, of having it
I call them my ‘old school’ days, but the day is not complete without a DVD running in the back round for company, and a keyboard for talking
I call them my alone time days, but if the cats are not curled up near to the computer screen, I try my best to round them up onto the bed with me
I call them my me days, but I spend them searching for other ‘you’s, to take a peek inside your hearts and minds
I call them my me days, but when I switch the phone off, I worry that someone will need me for something
I call them my me days, but I love to see those little orange stars…a sign that tells me someone has noticed me, sometimes ‘my words’ are just another way of saying… ‘me’
I call these days my alone time, but I mostly find inspiration to write, when I remember the times when I wasn’t alone
I call myself a loner, but I’m only a ‘happy loner’ when I’ve been submerged in human contact for many more days, than I’ve been without it
I call them my ‘not responsible’ days, but I think about my responsibilities anyway, and I sometimes post words and phrases in the hope of helping someone else manage their responsibility
I call this solace, yet I’m afraid of silence
I’m afraid of stopping, afraid of standing still, afraid of where my thoughts might take me if I’m truly left as the only one
In actual fact, I can’t ever remember an alone day, in the strictest sense of the word ‘alone’
Am I the only one who is that uncomfortable, when left with just ‘Me, myself and I’?
Are we all addicted to a wonky type of semi-solitude that requires interaction?
Where a pause between delivery and receipt of our words, is the only thing separating us from each other…