But living alone also reminds me how alone I am.

It's not that I can't be alone with myself. That's fine, I enjoy my own company, I'm a fabulous conversationalist when I'm not intimidated, and since I'm not intimidated by myself, the chit chat's always good.

Even though it's sort of comforting to be resigned to the fact that EVERYONE is alone, at least in their own heads, it still feels strange for me to not have a human presence in the space with me.

And it seems like everyone I know is pairing off. Everyone has a warm body in their vicinity, most of them warm bodies they can touch. The ones I regret letting get away, they have live-in girlfriends now. The ones that broke my heart, they're married, moving to South America, involved heavily with awful family breaking women, or just indifferent.

I often wonder if I'm unbearable, but my friends and family and such assure me otherwise. You know that whole thing about 'you can tell a person by their friends'? I have magnificent friends. They're generous, loving, fun, artistic, clever etc. I know really good people. So I must not be unbearable. But yet I feel like I am.

I just don't know anymore. Everyone goes away. And now I'm too old. And that's the first time I've cared about my age.

Also? Someone stole my curtain rod from P2.