Again another night of wakefulness, I like the nighttime hours the quiet it gives me time to reflect without the usual interruptions.
I’m not sure when I first became a night owl as I’m a person who loves their sleep, but with the onset of depression the my sleeping patterns changed dramatically and it appeared to me, that sleep during the day seemed more beneficial and the witching hours just seemed right.
As a naturally gregarious person, my contradiction is that I’ve always craved solitude, real alone time which many don’t understand, and think of it as antisocial, I prefer to think of it as simply switching of to be alone with myself.
Within that aloneness I can be very active to doing nothing, the thoughts that flicker across my mind like a film reel tend to go nowhere, as I let it wash over me and other times I’ll spend hours just simply reading or jotting down notes for the novel I may never write.
So many pieces of crumpled paper as my thoughts turn this way and that, not even trying to make sense but the idea of recording something for future use appeals, the thoughts during waking hours I don’t have the time to explore properly, not that clarity always comes, but it might, and what to do with it when it arrives, in what way can I channel my new-found awareness of me.
My friends see my wanting solitude as being lonely or hiding away, I don’t mind that, because there’s nothing wrong in hiding away, I give of myself freely and like to have something that is solely for me, space, which to some the concept seems to spell loneliness never realising that you can be lonely in a crowd, and I rarely feel lonely but do like to be alone, I’ve come to like my own company which is the trick for the want of a better word.
My own nirvana being comfortable with myself,but at the same time being able to share with others.