lonely, not alone
Why does the thought of being alone feel so scary?
I love being alone, by myself, left to my own thoughts, feelings, and actions—taken, felt, and executed at my own regard, on my own agenda. It can be boring, but it’s also peaceful. It takes a lot for me to disrupt my peace for another. You’ve got to be special for me to share my downtime with someone else, to move around my schedule because life’s adventures just feel better when you’re there doing them with me.
I get excited when your name pops up on my phone and when you show up at my front door all giddy-eyed. I love the way you look at me and remember intimate details about our conversations that we had in casual passing. You make me enjoy life more. You make me excited for the future possibilities, and for that, I am so grateful.
Sometimes when you’re sleeping, and I’m lying next to you, the clock will hit 2 AM, and I’ve got work the next day, but I’ll lay there just listening as you breathe in and out, falling deeper into REM. I’ll wonder what you’re dreaming about. And how you got here, and why you came here, and am I ever going to be someone you could love, or are we just playing a silly little game with one another? You’ll roll over, or your consistent interval breathing will lull for a moment, and my body will tense and I’ll wonder if your mind can feel mine looking for the spare key to your thoughts—or if the way I look at you, stumble over my words, and get embarrassed over small things already tells you everything you need to know.
Sometimes I lie there, thinking these things, wondering these thoughts, wishing you were mine, wishing it wasn’t all so scary like it feels that it is at 2 AM while you sleep on your left side, even though you said you never sleep on your left side.
Last night, you drove an hour and a half to come see me. And at 2 AM, while you were deep in REM, unconscious and unaware, I realized that sometimes I feel less lonely when I’m alone than when I’m with you. But I’m scared to admit it aloud because if you leave, then all I’ll be is simply alone again.
