20 & In Between

Okay, first off, I didn’t post on Monday because I was extremely busy for some reason. Like, I had so much work to do at work, which sounds silly but I’ve genuinely never been so swamped on a Monday.

Please expect future delays in my posting schedule. I’m just a girl.

Anyway, I am the most alone I’ve ever been for all of my 20 years. That’s not to be confused with being lonely. I am not lonely whatsoever.

I live alone, for starters. I wake up without hearing what goes on in the bathroom next to my room. There’s nobody to nag at me for leaving dishes in my room (not that I do that). There’s no one making me lunch or dinner.

I am actually completely okay with that.

If I remember correctly, I started to become more reserved around eighth grade. And then Covid hit so everyone became more reserved, in a way. I never really grew out of that once high school started. I became more comfortable being by myself; not needing to hang out with friends every weekend, or any day, really. I can recount several times from then to now in which my friends had to, almost literally, drag me out of my house.

Maybe I’m not the best person to write this post. Whatever.

College really solidified my interest in solitude. I found myself passing on going out on the weekends or hanging out in one of our dorm’s many lounges very often. I liked to be alone. Especially, when the only times you get to actually be alone are when you go to the bathroom or your roommate is in class. Don’t get me wrong, though, I loved my roommate. We were both people that liked to have their alone time, so I really couldn’t have found a more perfect match.

Moving on, when I transferred, I was never concerned about the social aspect of school. I am not the most social person at all and I don’t like to be. I need to have my space, especially after a long day at work, so moving out into my own little apartment seemed like heaven to me. And it is.

I do only live 10 minutes away from my parents and hang out with them two-four times a week, but that’s my choosing. I love being able to walk around without pants on and not have anyone stealing my food.

I love being alone.

That breakthrough came to me after my first (and only) breakup. It happened in the middle of my freshman year of college. I realized that I loved the feeling of not having to text him or call him or be annoyed that he wasn’t texting me. I don’t think I actually liked him all that much.

Anyway, the degree of freedom I felt was something I hadn’t felt before. Obviously, I wasn’t aware of how free I was before, so it came crashing down on me after I was freed from the shackles of a relationship (I want to clarify that in no way was my past relationship toxic or bad for me, it just wasn’t anything special, as harsh as that may sound).

I love to be left alone. I love to get away from anything and everything if it means basking in the comfort of strictly me, myself, and I. I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon.