True solitude is so rare these days that when it does sneak up on me, as it has tonight, the silence is almost deafening.

Suddenly, I am alone. Just me, safe within my own skin. I don’t have to work to define the boundaries between me and not-me, and there is none of my daily struggle to keep the outside world from flooding in.

It is just me. Alone.

Sometimes I crave this feeling so badly that I literally can’t stand to be touched. It’s like all of the outward-facing energy I have has been spent, and now I need to plug back in to myself and recharge.

I suspect that not everyone is like this. In fact, I know they’re not. And it’s not that easy to be this way, especially in the context of a full-time job and a full-time relationship. I know full well that both suffer when I don’t get enough me-time, but how do I balance all three? Not to mention my familial obligations. Sometimes, there just aren’t enough hours in the day.

But today, during this hour, I am recharging. And it is good.

 

(This is the first thing that came up when I did a Google image search for the word “alone.” It is not my photo, but I found it highly appropriate.)

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