Being Alone

I don’t like being alone. I can’t live alone; I learned that when I lived in Seattle a few years back. It is when I am alone that terrible thoughts, terrible memories come back to haunt me. I think of the things that I have said to the people I love and I think of the ways I have hurt them–knowingly, purposefully hurt them–and it makes me feel ashamed that I was ever that person.

It’s dangerous to be alone with your thoughts. People find different ways to drown them, through television or music or perhaps in novels, as I do. I read and write to escape my own head, to live in someone else’s for a change, but eventually everything is taken to heart. I read a story about love, and I find myself wishing I had it. I read a story about adventure and I find myself desiring escape. It’s a restless life, to be trapped in your own head. People use drugs and alcohol to escape; I use medication, but there’s only so far any of those things can go. How do I escape it? How do you?

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