Alone time.

I hate being left alone. Sometimes it feels as though I will never be found again, that whoever is missing will not return to me. It is quite an irrational fear given that I am nearing 30 and have a phone, a mobile, a laptop, a loud voice and a pair of legs should I need to reach anyone and ask them to come and save me.

But then when I am happy I love alone time, having the house, the bed, the space all to myself, it is like a blank canvas that I can fill up however I want to, without judgement, without grace or manners or having to justify or explain myself to anyone! I don’t want to share it with anyone, it’s mine all mine! I can stretch out and dance and tidy and clean and sing and mess it up again and paint and sprawl and make noise and mess and I don’t have to worry about anyone else but me!

I would be lost without my cat. Sometimes when I am really lonely I go looking for her. I search in drawers and under the bed and in the garden and on top of the washing pile and in her special place in the warm, humming, boiler cupboard. I don’t want to disturb her. I want to shrink myself down and curl up in there with her all safe and sound and protected. Maybe she would even groom me with her rough, fishy tongue.

And then my partner comes back and I feel surprisingly cramped and annoyed at his presence. It’s not that he isn’t lovely and kind, it’s just that I don’t actually want company, I just don’t want to feel lonely any more and I’m tired of feeling afraid.

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