I am alone. It is said that in a urban setting one is more inclined to be alone and live alone than those in suburban or rural settings. Someone living in the city might be surrounded by people but at the same time not have a social life, not have friends at all, alone, maybe even lonely.
Here in my room, like the Beach Boys, I feel safe and comforted. I’m in a room filled with familiar things, things I love, my things. I take comfort in material items, is that bad? I never think of being attached to material items as being a negative because that is how I am.
Back to feeling alone. Actually I’m not feeling alone, I am alone. I sometimes don’t even want to leave my little cubicle of a space but sometimes I dearly wish he could be here to share it with me. It’s such a waste of cozy when I’m the only person here to enjoy it.
The best is when the room is filled with trumpeting piano jazz that keeps night right outside the window and plays off the warm reds and creams on my furniture. Sipping at cocoa or coffee and thinking about snowy fireplaces when it’s the middle of June. Watching old family movies that make me feel young on the inside again.