I sit alone in a dark room, not even the company of a body downstairs. I sit, and I am alone. It is not so much sad as it is weird. I have not been constantly alone like this in a long time. At times I love it. I love waking up in the morning, and singing and talking to myself, and not having to worry about waking anyone up or disturbing someone's sleep. I love the freedom to be my weird self, without looking to see if someone appreciates it or not.

But there are the moments like now. I came home, and it was light, so I didn't turn my light on. It's gotten dark, and there are no lights on in my house, and I haven't gotten up yet to turn the light on, and so I sit alone in the dark. It is not an experience I want to avoid (of course, what experience do I ever want to avoid) by staying out of my house all day long, or making sure there are people always around me. I am comfortably uncomfortable in my solitude. This is not what I wanted for my life, but this is part of not getting that, and so I take this experience with the rest.

I think I will put on my new fancy dress and dance around. Tonight is as good a night as any to rejoice in myself. I am not so much chasing this present mood away, as transforming it. I feel acutely alone, but not so much lonely, so I will bask in my aloneness. (Yes I realize the irony of that as I write something that will go off to be read by lots of people.)

I love being me. It is a shame to me, that he could not love me for all that I am. But at least I love me. That is what matters most, and makes me smile at myself when I look in the mirror. I think I'm pretty dang awesome.