Sunday, January 11th, 2004 • 4 Comments on Alone With Myself
Saturday couldn’t have been a better day (despite the Grand Tour of Granby Street and the momentary panic when I thought that I had left my wallet in Kelly’s) and today has been one of those perfect lazy Sundays with little to do but watch old episodes of Buffy and a new episode of Sex and the City. Fun. Oh, and I found out there is a Lush in Bahrain, so hopefully my sweetie will send me a package when he’s not busy keeping the world safe for democracy and George W.
Actually, it hasn’t been a perfect Sunday because despite a bunch of phone calls and invites to do things, I’ve been feeling this odd sense of loneliness. I’ve been trying to stay so busy the past couple of weeks, I really haven’t let myself feel lonely. But it’s there. I have spent the better part of my life thinking I’m an introvert, when my introvertedness has more to do with circumstances and the nature of being a writer and less to do with my actual personality. I like to be around people, whether it’s one or ten, whether I’m the center of attention or not. I like to talk (probably too much), but that’s not even necessary. Sometimes, just having someone sitting next to me on the couch watching the same movie I am is enough to make me feel content. So, I’m battling the urge to get dressed and go out somewhere, anywhere, just to be around people.
The thing is, I could have gone out today but decided not to. I wanted a little down time to catch up on stuff around here and I didn’t want to leave the house. I probably could have invited friends over to keep me company, at least for a little while, but I didn’t do that either. I guess I needed to be by myself in some weird way. Sometimes it’s harder to be around people for a little while and then be alone than it is to just be alone for the whole day. And sometimes there is only one person who can make the loneliness go away and there is no substitute.
I’m not so melancholy as this sounds, truly. I just wish I wasn’t alone tonight.