old (2007), Uncategorized


Generally speaking, I don’t have a problem being alone. With the exception of seeing live music (that makes me feel unsafe), I can’t think of anything I’m reluctant to do by myself: movies, theatre, dining out, drinking coffee, walking around the city, traveling late at night on public transportation. That being said, there are times when being alone just feels bad — not because I’m unhappy, but because it seems as though I’m suspended in an autonomous bubble that remains unbroken by contact from the outside world. There are times, indeed, I feel like Jesse in Before Sunset when he says, “I feel like if someone were to touch me, I’d dissolve into molecules.”

This is especially more difficult when people promise to call but don’t or are otherwise conspicuously absent. And it isn’t as though I can’t find things to do: tonight, it was only 30 minutes after a phone call to Alicia that I was sitting in her house eating grilled corn on the cob and watching Little Children. But, at the end of the day, my phone remains unrung and words remain unsaid. The bubble is unbroken. I have a headache, and I’m going to bed.