Something about me just can't... play nice with others.
When given the choice, I'll more than likely choose to be alone.
My Saturday night in New York was calm.
While D and her friend went out drinking until six in the morning, I stayed home... writing. My only companion was the house cat, Tennessee Williams.
I was amazed in that city... but there was that nagging sadness in the back of my mind... and inside my heart.
Once I completed my writing at 2:30 in the morning, I sat at the window of the bedroom. The bed was placed perfectly so I could rest my body on the bed, with my elbows resting on the inside of the window ledge.
I sat there for an hour... just staring out the window.
Tennessee seemed to be keen on this... and she stood stoically next to me... although there would be times when she would move to rub her little head on my arm (it was comforting at the time... then I woke up with the wicked rash that plagued me for the week). I bet her owner does the same thing regularly.
I'd admire the cars... the animals... the people that would walk past... and I was... comfortable.
I felt I was where I needed to be.
It was my perfectly serene Saturday night.
....
How fucking weird am I?
This memory brought to you by "In case you doubt I'm going to end up alone."
When given the choice, I'll more than likely choose to be alone.
My Saturday night in New York was calm.
While D and her friend went out drinking until six in the morning, I stayed home... writing. My only companion was the house cat, Tennessee Williams.
I was amazed in that city... but there was that nagging sadness in the back of my mind... and inside my heart.
Once I completed my writing at 2:30 in the morning, I sat at the window of the bedroom. The bed was placed perfectly so I could rest my body on the bed, with my elbows resting on the inside of the window ledge.
I sat there for an hour... just staring out the window.
Tennessee seemed to be keen on this... and she stood stoically next to me... although there would be times when she would move to rub her little head on my arm (it was comforting at the time... then I woke up with the wicked rash that plagued me for the week). I bet her owner does the same thing regularly.
I'd admire the cars... the animals... the people that would walk past... and I was... comfortable.
I felt I was where I needed to be.
It was my perfectly serene Saturday night.
....
How fucking weird am I?
This memory brought to you by "In case you doubt I'm going to end up alone."
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