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Living alone.

When you live alone long enough, alone is no longer synonymous with lonely. After a while, you fill up a space. With your voice. With your scent. With your music. With your stuff. With everything you thought you own <and im for sure it could fit into a box>.

You learn to sleep like a troubled wire, or spooning your books and your laptop.You have no qualms about drip drying your bras over the shower rod or drinking the entire pot of coffee in the middle of the night.You stop cooking for one and just cook whatever or whenever you want. Or you don’t. Sometimes you eat peanut butter out of the jar and drink orange juice from the bottle, and call it dinner.

Some Saturday mornings, you’ll wake up early in the morning and sleep again <just because you can> and read six chapters in a book before even brushing your teeth. You’ll leave your shoes at the front door, your hair in the bathroom sink, and a weeks worth of mail on the kitchen counter and no one will give a shit. You’ll come home after a bad day and vent to your shower head the bad things you felt, who will listen intently and will continue to drip the water from its mouth without irritating you further by offering well intentioned but impractical advice.

When you live alone long enough, you learn that someone can love you without fucking with your emotions simultaneously. You learn how to share yourself or sequester yourself as needed and on your own terms. You learn when to let people in and out of your life and most importantly, you learn when to triple lock the door and pretend no one’s home.

I guess thats how it is to be living alone... no perks, just the soliloquy of being left alone and the independency of not drimnking water because you should. yes, i don't drink lots of water <yes, I'm a rebel like that>

Living alone.

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