I’m not usually one for Love, because I like being alone.  

I love coming home after a long day and enjoying the peaceful silence and freedom that comes behind a locked door.  I love eating where no one can see and reading what no one can judge.  I love laying in bed doing nothing all by myself.  I love playing fantasy video games that no one can ever experience the same way except me—those open world RPG ones especially.  I love buying a bottle of two-buck-Chuck and a frozen pizza from Trader Joe’s, dancing to the Glee soundtrack in the kitchen and chugging out of the bottle, where no one can see or hear or know.  I love swimming in solitude under the stars, and watching the smoke curl from my lips the way no one would guess.  I love laughing at my own jokes and hiding from my own fears.

I love it.

And yet, somehow I like the company of people, too.  Most recently, I like the company of a boy.  How odd.

I don’t think he believes me when I say that I’m independent.  I think he thinks I’m trying to align myself with Destiny’s Child circa 2000 and call myself an independent woman, without really meaning it, while still invoking the strength behind it. But I do mean it.

It’s hard to believe that someone can be happy alone.  But I am.

And yet, I’m happy not quite alone, too.  Who would’ve thought?

I’m not usually one for Love, because I browse Youtube and Tumblr and Facebook whenever I can, and work all the other hours, and sleep any extra.  But I like this new adventure.  Maybe I can learn to be “alone” beside another person.  How interesting that would be… and how long it’s been….