I enjoy living alone immensely.

With the exception of when I am sick.

Or, maybe I like being able to crawl around in sweat pants, with messy hair and be messy. But, I don’t like pressing my cold hands to my hot forehead, or dragging my small mattress to the ground and throwing all the pillows and blankets on it to create a nest that is just a substitute for someone holding me.

 I enjoy being able to cough, and sneeze without thinking that it sounds gross.But I don’t enjoy brewing a single cup of tea. Or watching movies I would much rather watch while being cuddled. 

I don’t like to share my weaknesses with people, but a lot of me wants to be able to share that side of myself with someone. With someone who will just be, with me, on a nice Monday night in March, and keep me company while the meds kick in.

Who will run out for a box of the extra soft tissues because I only have the bargain brand that makes my nose all red.

Yeah, or maybe I really just like living alone.