prosaic

i have long thought that there is nothing wrong with alone time. that i need a good amount of time to myself, by myself, with no one else around. i have said it so often, and thought it for so long now, that it seems true even though it is not.

maybe it used to be and is no longer, or maybe it never was. but sitting here with no one to smile at. with no one's feet to warm. with no one to share an anecdote or a bite of toast. with no one to go to the park with. no one, for whom, to get a glass of water. it is very clear. alone time is not necessary. time alone with someone, and not just anyone, is what is missing.

and it does not matter that people i used to spend most of my time with live far away, or have better things to do. i should take the hint. it only matters that what is missing is still missing.

"when we forgot why i am here" -t.v.h.h.