Some people …
No, most people …
People in general…
An increasing number of people …
No, who am I kidding, let’s not hide behind generalisations
this time, I, personally, hate being alone. I’m assuming that I’m not the only
one (because rarely is anybody ever the ‘only one’ to do or experience
something). I also applaud anyone who can relish their own company and space –
those who can be perfectly content not being juxtaposed to another breath –
because it is something I entirely can’t seem to do… much like I can’t play a
musical instrument or ride a bike.
I know exactly why, too. I find myself to be insufferable. I
know who I am, and I don’t like my own company. My mind is shared by the
personality of a fuddy duddy 100 year old boring lady whose hobbies enjoy jigsaws
and crossword puzzles, tea of all sorts (yes, tea can be a hobby) and hating
things. Sounds like delightful company, no?
So, being alone forces me to invite said old lady over for
psychoanalytical tea, where we have impetuous words over every fragment of
existence (some call this over thinking) that can, at times, be entertaining.
But most times I wish she would just shut up.
I guess this syndrome is exacerbated by my workaholic tendencies
and my cramped apartment: where I work until I cannot anymore and I pace until
I simply must sit. Those 20 minute delays in texts and hours of waits between
company passing through my door force me to entertain myself. How. How do you
entertain someone that doesn’t really like to be entertained, especially when
she is in a mood ? I try to please her
constantly but somehow she shrugs it off.
So, if anyone knows a good retirement home, please tell them
I would like a space for my personality.
Thank you.
