on sitting with yourself.

sometimes the nights you go to sleep in the clothing you wore during the day add up. sometimes all you can do when you walk in the door is feed your cat and crawl into bed. sometimes you want someone to be waiting up for you, a man who can't help but smile at the fact that you toss and turn and shift your legs half a dozen times before you're finally comfortable. a man you secretly hope is taller and bigger than you, mostly so you can wear his shirts to bed. and the whole heels thing. and because you can imagine how it would be to feel both safe and lost in the arms of a man. 

but sometimes you cherish the fact that you don't have to share your bed with anyone else. and you don't have to worry about waking someone because your body doesn't know how to sleep past five o'clock. 

sometimes you'll be sitting by yourself eating lunch, usually tacos, and loneliness will creep in. for a moment you'll be desperate for someone to talk to you. you look around and see couples, friends, mothers and daughters, and an older woman sitting alone by the window. she isn't reading, listening to music, or talking on her phone. she looks relaxed. she is her own company. 

you sit at a desk for eight hours with your thoughts and love it, most of the time. and the moments you feel lonely aren't as often and you feel blessed because the moments you realize how much you love being alone are much, much more frequent. 

being alone does not mean you are lonely. people lucky and determined to know themselves know the difference.