Sometimes, living alone can be tough.
It’s funny when you have so many people around you, your diary is full, and your friends are always there on the other end of the phone, yet somehow you can still feel so incredibly alone.
And in a sense, my house feels lonely.
Especially when Runkle decides to run away for a few days…
There are some days when I love living alone, when I can sit in nothing more than my knickers on the sofa, and lose hours choosing which Netflix show to watch, before deciding that actually, I want to cook some food.
I can invite people over at any hour of the day, I can have a fridge full of drink instead of vegetables (I still have lots of vegetables), and I can do exactly what I want.
At whatever time I want.
And that’s nice. That’s when it’s fun.
But there are some days when I don’t love living alone, when I wake up on a Sunday morning and want to make a tasty brunch for two, and be brought a cup of tea to bed. And sit and chat. About absolutely rubbish.
I like talking rubbish.
I miss coming home and having somewhere there, I miss having my bath run for me, and I miss having someone to talk to, to cry to and to vent to.
That’s when it’s not so fun.
Being a people person, it makes it a little hard. Harder than I expected, and realised. Like ever realised.
I’m trying to appreciate living alone, I really am, but sometimes I just can’t seem to shake that lonely feeling away. And that’s just me being honest.
Being truthful, that living alone can have it’s perks. But equally lonely. And even when my friends tell me they don’t know how they do it, or how they like a few hours peace but enjoy company, that’s when I realise, that maybe, maybe I’m not so bad at this.
And that it’s totally OK to feel lonely.
And that actually, I’m doing better than I think.
I just don’t think I remember that enough.
That, the girl who didn’t even know how to use a washing machine, had her meals cooked for her most evenings, wouldn’t know where to begin to pay an electric bill and called her mama every five minutes asking how to defrost chicken, is not doing so badly living alone.
Paying my own bills.
Defrosting chicken without the call before (actually, I just learnt to buy cooked…!)
Fixing the washing machine.
And many other things, that even, I doubted myself could do.
So excuse me for a little while, if some days I’m not myself, I’m probably just sad that there wasn’t anyone to bring me a cup of tea when I’m feeling poorly. But when I’m sitting in my knickers with a tub of ice cream to myself, that’s when I forget about the loneliness, that I don’t have to share either.
Just bare with me on this.