The Art of Being Alone

I want to discover an enormous, empty house and spend weeks getting myself lost inside it.

I want to explore the thousand rooms until I’ve seen them all.

I want to tiptoe up grand staircases, in awe of their humongous size.

I want to skip through the great library and lightly run my fingertips along the spines of books.

I want to unearth all the disguised doors, hidden staircases and secret rooms.

I want to ride the dumb-waiter all the way to the top floor and then down again.

I want to venture into the dark, creepy cellar with only a candle.

I want to memorize the entire house until I can disappear in the snap of your fingers.

I want to haunt the house like a ghost, refusing to leave and unable to catch.

I want to creep up to the attic at night and watch the moon rise.

I want to fly through the rooms like a restless bird.

I want to find a secret place where I can curl up and pretend I am the only person in the world.

I want to perch upon the rooftops, staring down at the world with the leering gargoyles.

I want to shut my eyes and listen to silence and the sounds of the house breathing.

I want to be surrounded by the enormous house; tiny in its giant size, surrounded by rooms and rooms of air. Safe.

I want to be alone.

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3 Comments

    1. No, no she didn’t.
      Course she did 😉

      I like this post, it’s different from your others, and basically sums up my life. ❤

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