I’ve gotten used to it. Being alone. Staying inside. Not leaving my house. I never drive anywhere anymore. I don’t go to bars. I don’t see my friends. And I kinda like it. At first I was panic stricken by the possibility of being stuck here, alone, for a very long time. But now? It feels natural. It feels okay. It feels like I might be sad when things change again, and they will change, in a new way that will be strange and foreign all over again. I will be panic stricken, yet again, by the prospect of returning out into that big, scary world out there. It has been so kind to me lately, neatly at bay, away from me. I am no longer involved in it, and because of that, I have a new sense of calm in my life. Even as the anxiety of how I will survive from this point forward morphs and grows into something more sinister, I at least have the calm of not having to try. Not having to pretend to be nice to strangers in the street. Not feeling guilty for staying cooped up in my home all the time. I have been vindicated in my self isolation, and I know that as soon as it is taken away from me, I will be sad in a strange, new way.
Maybe I have always been like this. Maybe I could always do this. Perhaps that is the most frightening prospect of all – that this loneliness is not lonely at all.