Thursday, January 7, 2016

Alone in Spirit, Lonely in Soul

I feel there is a hard difference between being alone and feeling lonely - I can thrive on my own, all day in the apartment, accomplishing nearly everything on my to-do list {for real, who actually completes a to-do list??} yet walk into a room and feel overwhelmed or ostracized to the point where I feel quite beside myself with loneliness, feeling unrelatable to anyone in the vicinity...

Mayhap introverted qualities contributes to this odd sensation frequently felt in a room full of people.

Spending so much time with myself, whether it's due to needing to get some work accomplished, time off when all of my friends are at work, or simply needing to recharge my social batteries, I can honestly say I've become fairly comfortable with my own company, often preferring it to certain others...but that's not to say I don't, at times, feel lonely cooped up in my apartment or when I get back late at night, snuggling alone with my stuffed hippo.

Loneliness is a part of life; we accept it as we accept water is a vital part of survival. Loneliness is not a particularly joyous feeling, but one that is perfectly natural to feel, whether one is surrounded by twelve other people, stuffed animals and a ukulele {as I frequently find myself}, or even when the only form of interaction is through a pixelated screen.

Loneliness is unpredictable as well...most times, I'm perfectly content in dolling myself up to take myself out for some well-deserved wings {yum, Habanero mango!} and some Yuengling, as occurred Monday night...I hardly spoke all day on account of my voice going in and out, soothed somewhat by the copious amounts of hot herbal tea consumed. Interaction minimal, Instagram and Facebook scrolling abundant in order to ward off any potential unwanted attention from lads at the bar {works like a charm}.

Other days, I wake up like this {oh, the wonders of make-up, indeed}, uninspired by the day and longing for some cuddles {all fur babies welcome} after spending another night alone in bed.

Don't get me wrong, introverts thrive on their own and in their own controllable safety-bubbles, confined to their little space yet free of mind as their thoughts soar among the literary or musical clouds, and not sharing a bed is certainly fabulous at times, too, but again, loneliness in its unpredictability makes it all the harder to feel so energized by those previously liberating good-feels.

In the end, I guess we're all alone, eh? It'd be nice to spend some of that time before the final snuff with people we like, though, but alas, in-between those times, that's why I have stuffed animals and I'll play my ukulele to them.

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