I enjoyed periodically catching a whiff of the perfume as I came home, or woke up, or just happened to notice it when I was in the living room (perhaps the air kicked on causing a temporary boost in the airborne concentration). It might sound desperate, but in a way, I kind of felt like maybe I was not living alone after all.
I’m not feeling nearly as depressed as this is sounding. I’m not going to say I feel happy by any stretch of the imagination, but neither am I particularly depressed. The interesting thing to me is the feeling of acceptance
The flavor in our lives come from others.
Tomorrow’s post will be something about Valentine’s Day and love and all of that…stuff, I guess, and I hope you’ll forgive me for this one. Valentine’s Day is just tough on single people, like the display toilets in a home improvement store is to a man with diarrhea.
Leaving a career is a lonely act. It doesn’t really matter why you’re doing it, it’s not easy. I left two careers because I was let go, and one for what I thought was love, and every time it was lonely.
Among the pieces is a six-drawer dresser which I have already been using, but I only use the right three drawers leaving the left three empty.
She needed an ear, and I was that ear. I had that same room for the four years I was there (and, yes, that’s an exceptionally nerdy thing to do), and for four years she would call me every couple of weeks for another marathon conversation. I never even knew her name. But was she the lonely one?
Yes, that’s me. I’m nobody. I was born a nobody, I lived life as a nobody, I have always been a nobody, I am still a nobody and no doubt, I will die a nobody.
In case you haven’t noticed, I’m feeling particularly lonely and introspective. This probably isn’t a good thing, but neither is it a surprise. I’m a thinker with deep emotions.
It is not my intention to argue that one lifestyle is better than another, that being single is better than being with a partner or vice versa.