I am alone. A plethora of people will tell you that it’s impossible to actually be alone and that it’s just an emotion that passes with time. In all actuality, I am alone. I am alone in a town full of hopeless dreams and run down buildings. Where wrinkles encompass the faces of people who have traveled around the sun way more times than me. I am alone in an apartment in which the only communication I hear are my neighbors fighting next door or awkward shower singing through the shallow walls. I am alone at a job where I am ridiculed daily for my education, my gender, and my divorce. I don’t ask for anyone’s sorrow or empathy. I’m quite ok being alone because there is no one here for me to answer to. When I let the dishes crowd up in the minuscule sink. When I stay up late and read books on the balcony, flicking ash into the night wind. When I spread my feet and take up the whole bed while watching mindless television that floods my brain. I know one day, I will find that spark that will share in my life and dreams, but not today, and yes...


that.
is.
ok.