Finding true solitude

 It's 6:10am. Recently I have tried the whole relationship thing. What I have found, as an asexual is that it is of little interest of me. Time and time again I have found myself trying to grasp on to the tails of normalcy. Like many others, loneliness is a bane of existence that seems to tether us to our connections. Time and time again I find myself disinterested in more and more of these ideas. It is strange, I would think, to others. Yet I see that in an ideal world, I remain alone. I alone shadow the light of life, I alone could ever think of the love I have for others. There is simply no reason to love another when I could easily love myself. Love can no longer be limited by another. just and only, simply to love myself.

Always forever

 Today it's 6:03 am. I am in a drunken stupor. In these moments I find myself ultimately disgusted. Disgusted by the vanity of humanity. I find myself in another rant against the core of human nature. I find myself true in these moments of solitude. For, every moment every second I feel the freedom of solitude, I veer farther from the closeness of human nature. I am not truly angry, but disappointed in the nature. Recently, I have tried to connect. Dating and relationships seemed very uninteresting to someone like me, for most of my life. My early years of life consisted of iffy friendships, off-putting remarks by strangers, and the closeness that could only be felt by true loners of the free world. Solitude has brought me my real nature.

Unaware

 It is currently 3:16am. I am sitting here with nothing but the whirling letters stabbing my brain like a bundle of tacks. In these moments of silence I tend to struggle with acceptance, accepting the person I look at in the mirror, accepting my life is a random accumulation of my past mistakes, accepting my lost friendships. I sometimes feel at times like these, an unimaginable ache. An ache, a yearning for the love I shared with my friends, of a different time. I miss the moments I have alone, I miss the moments I had with no fear, no obligations, blissful ignorance. I have this massive weight that I cannot ever escape from, and with every moment that passes I break another rib. I still have writing though, something to whisper to, something that is entirely mine. It's all I have really, all I should ever need from life. Writing.