You know that moment when you realize you are completely alone, the moment you don't know whether to cherish or feel immensely saddened by? It is the moment where you contemplate alleviating your singularity, calling upon a familiar face for company and comfort, but for whatever reason, decide to remain in solitariness. These are the moments I now regularly find myself in, these moments that leave me both disheartened and grateful.
It is within these dejected moments that I realize that I have no one but my inner self to converse with, that I am lacking what was once an overabundance of socialization. However, I find that once I move past such trivial thoughts as whether to run the dishwasher or the washing machine first, I can sufficiently address issues I've had with myself. These moments are the lone instances where I can be myself in its truest form, and while many of my self-conversations are serious and morose, I thoroughly enjoy the revelation process.
