There used to be a time when I was so alright with being alone. I spent countless evenings & weekends enjoying the company of only me and that was enough. And now that I've "grown" and changed and come out of my shell a bit, all things that I was led to believe would make my life better, now is when I'm miserable. That doesn't really seem like progress to me. Here I am sitting alone in my house for the third night in a row. And sure it's the middle of the week, and most people don't necessarily hang out during the week, except I've grown accustom to a life that differs from that of "most people." Wednesdays I used to have small group, but someone decided to not have it during the summer. And so I sit here & I don't like it. Were it not for my interview today and going to the grocery store I would not have seen anyone today. That is magnificently sad to me. And I fear tomorrow will bring the same. No, I know that it will . . . :'(

So, I was going through my journal looking for a poem to share that would lighten the mood of this post, instead I found this. I wrote it almost a year ago.

I think my biggest fear is not being taken care of. Not because I can't largely fend for myself, but because I fear not having anyone in my life who cares enough to be there when I need someone. I fear not having the option. I fear being alone when I'm paranoid. I fear not having anyone there to chuckle at yet indulge me in my neuroses. I fear not mattering to anyone. I fear not having someone in my life who would do anything it took to be with me. I fear not being a priority.

I think that's a little how I'm feeling right now.

And now to lighten the mood . . .

This is a poem that I wrote several years ago for a creative writing class, it is based on a true story. It's a little gross, but it makes me laugh. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Battle

I sat there for hours,
Stubbornly staring at my enemy.
I wasn't going to lose this time
The hideous green beans taunted me,
But I refused to eat them,
I'd rather sit there forever.
"You can't get up until you finish,"
my mom would tell me.
"There are starving children in India,"
my dad would say.
Give me a box, I thought,
I'll send them this . . . "food."
I refused to eat them,
Those gross green beans.
No matter how hard I'd try, though,
I always would lose.
I'd have to eat those vile vegetables,
And then . . .
Well, don't look now,
But they're all over your shoes.