I am a person who lives well in solitude. I am not lonely. And although some days, people may find themselves offended by my strict adherence to such an adventure, I take no pride in it. When I have the luxury, I prefer to look deep into the bottom of my cup when I drink coffee than to look above it. Take me out of it and I’ll famish. My creativity is stimulated when I’m left in discourse with my true self. Let me dwell on it in order to find the world in a much lighter perspective. The blackness of the room is sunlight to me so when I want to breathe, I just need to be.


I guess when you become obedient about the things you allow to transpire in you and your life, just living and following the rules; uncomplaining and uncompromising, there’s this brewing sense of rebellion growing within you. You are good. But you’ll realize you’ve never lived your life to the fullest but you have already paid it in full. Worst, you know you’re settling but are too frightened to do otherwise. Then, you regret yourself so much you’d rather wish you weren’t born at all. Loneliness, after all, is self-inflicted. Yet you still live, walk the earth, smile like three hyenas in the movie Lion King in auto-tune; an empty vessel bound for shipwreck.