I Like Being Alone
I really like being alone. I don't hate companionship or friends, I just feel like I am completely and wholly myself when I'm with...myself. I don't second guess, feel embarrassed or inadequate. I simply am.
Thank whoever invented walls and doors because I don't know what would have happened to me as a child if I couldn't have holed up in my room to sing and dance in front of the mirror with my headphones on. I like being able to lie on my bed with the radio playing, staring up at the ceiling and knowing that nobody is currently depending on me for anything. It's like a sweet dream without a chance of awakening; nobody can interrupt or yell at me.
While I am alone I get random ideas for stories and poetry. I can just write a few lines in some word document and look at it later and still be happy because for once I am certain that my opinion is the only one that matters. I don't give anybody else a chance to have an opinion.
I think I am so fond of alone-ness because I am mortified of judgement. If someone ever opened up that file called "Dream Journal" I would flip. Or if they opened up one of several dozen college ruled notebooks that contain stupid doodles and diarylike entries.
I must have an awfully glorified self-image because I think anyone would care what I thought of that boy in the ninth grade or what my latest dream involved.
Thank whoever invented walls and doors because I don't know what would have happened to me as a child if I couldn't have holed up in my room to sing and dance in front of the mirror with my headphones on. I like being able to lie on my bed with the radio playing, staring up at the ceiling and knowing that nobody is currently depending on me for anything. It's like a sweet dream without a chance of awakening; nobody can interrupt or yell at me.
While I am alone I get random ideas for stories and poetry. I can just write a few lines in some word document and look at it later and still be happy because for once I am certain that my opinion is the only one that matters. I don't give anybody else a chance to have an opinion.
I think I am so fond of alone-ness because I am mortified of judgement. If someone ever opened up that file called "Dream Journal" I would flip. Or if they opened up one of several dozen college ruled notebooks that contain stupid doodles and diarylike entries.
I must have an awfully glorified self-image because I think anyone would care what I thought of that boy in the ninth grade or what my latest dream involved.