i find solitude a strange thing. like a cool heat. or a silent scream.
i enjoy the quiet of being alone. of being so focused upon one action or thought. of not feeling the sun slip across my skin. of only stirring from a dream when the cool kiss of moonlight disrupts the hair upon my neck.
but this quiet. this alone that i feel so comfortable with in one instance. can raise the hair upon my neck in gooseflesh. the inward focused gaze becomes vague. misty. filled with illusions and whispers. i can track the path of the sun by the jagged shadows flitting across my vision. harsh lighting. deep darkness.
perhaps i have grown accustomed to my solitude spilling into companionship. two single worlds. orbiting each other. me in mine. he in his. alone and together.
so now our paths are thrown off kilter.
and i find myself more and more in the discomfort of solitude.
alone among friends.
it's a strange place to be.
i'm ready to not be alone.
any time now.
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