Alone does not necessarily mean lonely...

When he walks into a room all the oxygen leaves. I am gasping for air. Stomach clenches, the room seems to hush, his every step, every movement carries some undefined importance, and even after he has left every fiber of my being is acutely aware that he was there. All thoughts so clear and present just seconds before evaporate and I am left with just that knowledge: He was there.

In that quiet where nothing else matters, I try to remind myself of why he is no longer part of my life, of why it didn’t work, of why I am alone. I ask myself: Am I not happier now? I now have everything I wanted ---don’t I? My craft, my independence, freedom. 

In many ways I am more content with these things, and would most certainly regret not having them even though I do not always know how to use them intelligently. Does that mean I am not allowed to miss what might have been? I am a free woman! I can do anything I want!

His presence in my life has left a mark, a gap a chasm but there are many things I am meant to do none of which would be possible with such a presence as his, so defined, so all encompassing, so distracting, in my life.

Alone does not necessarily mean lonely… but sometimes it does.