Strange.
I thought that maybe if I were by myself, I’d be miserable, lonely, “no one to do anything with.”
Now I can’t imagine doing the things that I like with someone. It would be too much trouble to schedule, and finding two seats in a packed movie theater would be too much trouble.
This is what I tell myself now. But then again, who else would wake up at eight in the morning to watch “Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone?”
I have a different set of priorities that most. Right now, at this moment, I’m finished with lunch at the Thai restaurant up the street from my apartment.
It’s raining in the city, and still unseasonably warm for Thanksgiving weekend. I’m looking forward to winter, and the bitter cold, but not the social obligation dilemmas that it brings.
Christmas at home? Or in NYC? Or alone again? I don’t have many left, but already they’ve lost meaning. Maybe when I get a family of my own, things will change.
Or maybe I’ll die alone.
Who knows? I can’t tell the future.