Every Other Weekend

What is it about being alone that's comforting and terrifying all at once? Not too long ago, all I wanted was to be alone, just for a few hours. Now have many hours alone and I wander through them like a pale ghost, a loose end, frayed, unbound.

Before I fought for every second of silence and now I fight silence, with media, tasks, craft. I am hungry for conversation, I do not always get it. I talk to the dog. She listens attentively.

Some day, soon I think, I will welcome the stillness, the vast quiet pool of deep thoughts. I will enter it eagerly, I will float, dive, hold my breath and emerge with a charge from a muse. Some day soon, I will say no I cannot talk I am busy breathing and being alive and creating the universe.
Some day soon...

Now...the voices are back, the mess, the noise, the chatter, the chaos that left on Friday has returned and I have missed it. In 2 weeks, I will miss it again, but just a little less...