Lonely

I'm sitting here.  All alone.  In my room.  Wearing a bathrobe.  In complete silence.  Avoiding work.

This is a strange feeling.  I realize now that I haven't really been this alone in a while.  I guess I have to extrapolate on that, because it doesn't really make sense unless I elaborate on just what I mean by "this alone."  I've been very alone throughout the course of this week.  There have been times when I couldn't talk to anybody, especially not those who meant most to me, and there have been times when I've been waiting anxiously for someone to come to me and nobody has, and there have been times where I've sat around knowing that something was going to happen at a designated time, but just not yet.

But this is different.  Right now, I'm not anticipating anything.  There's nowhere I could be where something is more likely to happen than something else, nothing I can do to make anything happen, no thoughts I can think that will really change this.  And in that, I am alone.  It's not a bitter loneliness, merely a particularly poignant one.  I'm so aware of it, so aware of my detachment from the rest of the world, of my lack of reliance on anybody for anything in this one moment.  It's nice.

Despite the fact that I've been running on way too little sleep this past week and that I've gone through several different levels of hell, I'm happy right now, I'm calm, I'm content.  Right now, I feel like I have control.  In this silence that nobody may disrupt, in this moment of rumination, I can really breathe.  The rest of the world does not pertain to me, it cannot touch me.  Nothing can hurt me except for myself.  It's this steady sense of power and control.

I haven't felt that in a long time.  I haven't really sat down with only my own thoughts in a while.  It's usually been tainted with work or concerns for other people.  But right now, there's nothing I can do about any of it.  Or even though I know I can, I don't need to, everything is fine in the balance it is currently at.  This peace will only last so long.  I will only be isolated for whatever period of time, and I'm glad about that because I like people, too, just certain ones in much smaller doses.

While it lasts, though, this is nice.  This is good for me on occasion, too.  I'm almost thinking that I should start meditating again, even though I haven't done that in years.  That's how calm I am right now.  But I don't think I'm going to.  I'd probably fall asleep if I tried.  The funny part about that is, I'm okay with it.  I don't mind being tired.  I can live at this level of fatigue and get through it just fine, even be happy on occasion (although admittedly not as often as I'd like).

This level of control is good for me.  It lets me know that everything is alright.  I need that reminder.  I need it often.  I like occasionally being able to reassure my own doubtful mind of that.  That's what moments like these are good for.  This silence, this peace, this calm and blissful solitude that has no expectations and no demands, this is what keeps me whole, what keeps me going, keeps me alive.  I need it for that.  It feels good.