Solitude

I enjoy my own company. A lot. Sometimes more than being with other people. And it happens that people comment on it, and I never quite know how to respond to that. I think sometimes it bothers others, more than it affects me. And sometimes it makes me think, and write.

What is the meaning of life? Am I wasting it, doing things on my own? Does it only count if you're doing something that others knows about, that others can see, evaluate and comment on? If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it - did it still happen?

What if the reason for living is to experience others, to create some kind of community or a feeling of belonging - always together with others. Then I guess I need to hurry up, I am probably far behind with the social thermometer. But then, what if there is no meaning to it all. What if it just ends, we just die, and there's nothing to come once we're past, and there's no real reason or meaning to as why we were even here in the first place. Then maybe it is not me who has been mistaken, maybe it is you. Or maybe both of us are right, and wrong. Or maybe there isn't any rights or wrongs. Maybe there is just nothing. Just the "now". And whatever comes next, will come, either you're doing it with someone or you're doing it on your own. Or maybe it won't come. Maybe all we have are all these "nows", and nothing more. And maybe that's okay. Alone or not.