I like people. I really do. Not the stupid annoying ones, but the rest of all of you. I enjoy spending time with friends, being in social situations, having company. With that said, I'm also perfectly happy being alone. I need, crave, exist on solitude. But for almost two weeks I've been with my mother. Not a single waking moment alone. My head is spinning and I'm clenching my teeth. My poor mom thinks it's her, thinks I don't like her, thinks I'm mean. No, two weeks with anyone would have me screaming for a cave in the hills. Well, maybe a suite in a grand hotel, I'm not much for the unshaved hermit stuff.
Tonight I get my first, and possibly only, night by myself. I should go home, clean, do laundry, exercise, cook a healthy meal. In reality? I'll probably go home, start some laundry, take a nap. Get up, finish the laundry, open a(nother) bottle of wine, grab the ice cream and watch Lost. No interruptions. No thinking. No talking. Nothing medical. Only me.
Tonight, unlike the last two weeks, is finally about me.
I think tomorrow night my mom will be back and it'll start all over again.