A Short Reflection on Solitude

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1934

Abstract

and it has been solitude.</p><p id="c1e7">It has been nights spent curled up against memories that hurt me and nights stretched out like so much hope and peaceful sleep.</p><p id="3d97">It has been days wanting to share myself with someone else, and it has been days of being selfish with my time, glad to soak it in alone with the freedom that implies.</p><p id="1f07">Alone has been tears falling unchecked and days spent in adventure.</p><p id="f2eb" type="7">It has been many things, but it has not always been lonely.</p><p id="f5eb">Alone has been reflections of me, and I am not just one thing or just one feeling. It has been the days when I remember the joy of my own solitary dreams. But it’s also the days when I long for a hand to hold, another heart beating beside me in the night. Alone is all things, as I am all things, and it is ever-changing.</p><p id="660f">Tonight, I want to curl up on the couch in my favorite spot and read, and I wouldn’t mind if one day there was someone sitting nearby who was reading, too. Right now, it’s not an ache. But some night, it might be. Alone evolves into lonely, turns back into solitude, flashes again into something else.</p><p id="7ad1">Tonight, it’s the smooth stone, and I’m not naive enough to think it will stay that way. But for you, maybe, it’s the sharp stone scratching sensitive skin, and I hope you remember that it won’t always be that way either. Somewhere out there, someone is laying down beside someone who might as well be absent, the loneliness is so sharp.</p><p id="5564" type="7">Because alone isn’t a relationship status.</p><p id="78a8">It’s just a changeable state of being. It feels great one minute, and it aches the next. It does not define us, but it sometimes refines us, and we choose whether or not we allow it to whittle us down or to make us stronger.</p><p id="153c">Read more like this:</p><div id="1941" class="link-block"> <a href

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A Short Reflection on Solitude

Lonely has been the rough rock on the river bed, scratching the sharp-edged side against my knees as I pushed off and shot toward the surface, trailing crimson tears in my wake, the sting sharp as I kicked toward the shore, struggling to see through the rain and the mist to the empty shoreline that waits for me to thrust myself upon it, tired out and scarred from my endeavors.

I roll over and look up at a sky where the moon and stars are obscured by dark clouds that spit down rain like memories I wish to God I could escape. I lay here watching because I don’t have the strength to get up and go anywhere just yet. I wonder if I’ll ever feel strong enough to carry this weight, or if the next time I dive, it will drag me beneath the surface for good.

Solitude has been a smooth stone curled into my hand and stroked gently as I sat on the edge of the shore and watched how the sun played with the light and its reflections like a lover might once have played with my hair. I toss the stone with strength and determination and watch it skip one, two, three, four times before sinking, and I smile as the sun sinks, too.

The moon smiles as she rises and shines down on me, and the only sound is the lapping of the water against the dock and the sound of the wind through the trees.

Alone has been lonely, and it has been solitude.

It has been nights spent curled up against memories that hurt me and nights stretched out like so much hope and peaceful sleep.

It has been days wanting to share myself with someone else, and it has been days of being selfish with my time, glad to soak it in alone with the freedom that implies.

Alone has been tears falling unchecked and days spent in adventure.

It has been many things, but it has not always been lonely.

Alone has been reflections of me, and I am not just one thing or just one feeling. It has been the days when I remember the joy of my own solitary dreams. But it’s also the days when I long for a hand to hold, another heart beating beside me in the night. Alone is all things, as I am all things, and it is ever-changing.

Tonight, I want to curl up on the couch in my favorite spot and read, and I wouldn’t mind if one day there was someone sitting nearby who was reading, too. Right now, it’s not an ache. But some night, it might be. Alone evolves into lonely, turns back into solitude, flashes again into something else.

Tonight, it’s the smooth stone, and I’m not naive enough to think it will stay that way. But for you, maybe, it’s the sharp stone scratching sensitive skin, and I hope you remember that it won’t always be that way either. Somewhere out there, someone is laying down beside someone who might as well be absent, the loneliness is so sharp.

Because alone isn’t a relationship status.

It’s just a changeable state of being. It feels great one minute, and it aches the next. It does not define us, but it sometimes refines us, and we choose whether or not we allow it to whittle us down or to make us stronger.