Brace yourself folks for a random post about thoughts I sometimes have. It’s bound to be an interesting ride, as usual, into the depths of my thinking about things…
Here is the thing. I love being alone. But the prospect of waking up one morning and being alone in the world is something I have nightmares about. Relief would only come when I awoke in a lather of panicked sweat. Alone alone is a scary prospect. All alone with no sounds of a bustling world, just me and the silence. Very Castaway but without the beach.
Years later I sat watching “I Am Legend” uncomfortably as I watched my fears come to life in a darkened cinema from an uncomfortable chair. I watched as he yearned for people, to have someone, anyone, to talk to, and I realised that was me too. I recognised myself in that movie, and the fear deepened a little.
Let’s face it, just like the character in the movie I probably could have gone years before I reached that point too. Because as much as I fear being all alone in the world, I like alone time. Loooove it. Love love it. I like to be alone with my thoughts and hobbies. I love to spend time with myself.
I’m a loner. That’s what I am.
A people loving introvert who would rather be alone that in a crowd. It’s well-known around these parts that I regard people for a while before I decide if I like them. I use the backing of my rather large extended family as a buffer to developing other relationships. My life is full of people; I’m not overly interested in adding more. Yet, the idea of having no one, being entirely alone, gives me chills.
Now isn’t that interesting? Maybe just to me but I wonder about such things, you know. I assume it’s strange to be a people loving introvert with some sort of end of the world, last woman standing type fear. That makes me a bit of an oddball, I think.
Anyone want to be my end of the world buddy? It’s one thing I refuse to do on my own.