The Cost of Company

Cost of ComfortI am not sure how much longer I can avoid my own precarious thoughts. I have plenty of avoidance tactics up my sleeve, have been practicing them for years. But tonight, tonight I felt the need  to come home and unwind.

The fact that I was still getting into my apartment after 8:00pm somewhat comforted me; I thought I would be able to handle it. Then tonight it suddenly became so clear to me why going home is sometimes more challenging.

Before. Before when I wasn’t living alone, I never wanted to go home. At home I was surrounded. Surrounded by those who love, those who care. In my own reality, if one of those people had seen me, I would have to explain. Explain something I cannot yet comprehend myself.

But now I am alone. I love being alone. I cherish having something that is completely mine… space… freedom to be up at this hour, or any hour: drinking something swanky, listening to jazz or Sinatra, or something completely and consumingly sad. To not be judged for pretending I am in an era I am not. Free to do exactly what I want.

Is this what I want? The freedom part yes, but to feel like this? The loneliness; I thought it would go away when I was alone…what a foolish thought. The longing achiness to just sit in silence with someone. To feel the warmth of a body next to mine, the comfort of touch. I miss it.

Replacements welcome at no cost to you. But for me, who knew the cost of sweet company would run so deep?

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