Making a pot of coffee for one might be the loneliest thing I’ve ever experienced. I halfed my two-person recipe exactly, but I swear to god the ratio isn’t the same. My cup is bitter– or maybe that’s just me.
Right now, my life feels like a movie. It’s my day off from work, it’s rainy and grey, I woke at 6:30 a.m. and read poetry on the couch. Now I’m staring into my shitty coffee, balking at the refection I see– is that really me? My dog somehow manages to watch my every move without lifting her head from the pillow she’s resting on. Her eyes remind me of black marbles, and I’m realizing I may be more of a cat person even though I’m wildly allergic to them.
It’s been a while since I’ve been by myself– my entire life, maybe. I’ve always had my sister, a boyfriend. I guess even now I have my dog, but I’m not really talking about the physical part.
Trying to make the distinction between “lonely” and “alone” has proven difficult. I am here, in a house, by myself– I am alone. I have no one, I need someone– I am lonely.
So which is me?
Maybe both.
Maybe neither.

This entry was published on January 8, 2013 at 10:00 AM. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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