Tuesday, April 03, 2012 § 3

I love my solitude. Sometimes, I’d burrow inside this room inside my mind and stay there thinking of nice stuff, crazy stuff, love stuff. Most of the time, I read. I’d read The Catcher in the Rye over and over again and the Time Traveler’s wife and muse about how it feels like to love someone who constantly disappears every now and then without so much as a goodbye kiss.
People watching from a distance would assume that I am a loner. They might not be right. But they aint wrong either. I don't know about that. Really.
My favorite time, not one o'clock, or three o'clock, is alone time and it is happy. It’s like stepping inside a room, discover everything inside my head, and remind myself of who I am, what I wanna do, and where I wanna be. Memories in my subconsciousness, long forgotten, like magic, resurface again. Bitter memories, memories I have shunned, obliterated, dissolved.. But in vain..
Sweet sweet memories, oh how I long to relive them. Sigh. Memories. Buried knowledge. Tip of the tongue words. Unbelievable. Everything is just there, stays there, like one of those on-the-tip-of-my-tongue memories. You think you have forgotten them but, no, they are just there.. There to stay for a very, very long time, if not forever.. All it takes is one neuron. And another. Yet another again. And another and so on. One of the neurons may die, but there are others more, carrying a bit of this, a bit of that, so nothing is really ever forgotten. Fragments, but still, of the same essence.
Memories that are always there,  some I cover like sand in my palms, not wanting to open them lest the sands of memories spill into the vastness that is the earth. Memories that are always there, I am trying to bury deep in my unconsciousness. Bittersweet, they are always there, and the tears escape from my eyes and I am sobbing, tears falling into the vastness that is the earth. If I could just click my fingers and these bad memories begone! But I can not. i am dissolved in this pity mess. I am alone and there is no one to mock me, stone me, or spew filthy words at me.
When I am alone, in my solitude, I am most human, most content, most accepting. No one is there to contradict, except myself. Nothing is, or seems preposterous. No trace of the crass, inane, dumb individual that I sometimes am when around other people.
Every time I am alone, all I have is myself, no other person to love but myself. I redeem myself. Every time I am alone, I am never lonely. I am my own companion.
Alone time, my favorite time. I do love my solitude.

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