Happy Thanksgiving to me. I’m alone. I’ve been alone all day. In fact, I stayed in bed all day. I just got up to microwave a frozen meal and then I spent an hour in an online chat room trying to connect with strangers so that I wouldn’t feel so lonely. Sometimes I like being alone. Not with others. I have my bed to keep my company. And my teddy bear, in my 30’s. I do still sleep with my stuffed animal.
I’m glad I didn’t have alcohol tonight. It would have just messed with my dehydrated constitution, which is delicately balanced on me having not eaten all day until the evening. I was going to go to the store to get a bottle of wine, but decided against it, because that would mean me having to actually go out there, into the cold night, and I’m perfectly happy sitting here in my warm blanket. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy company. But the company I was supposed to have didn’t end up working out, and I had no backup plans. I think I’m going to be spending the next three days, alone in bed. I wish I didn’t do that. But I cannot think of anything I’d rather do, than be in bed. It’s a lonely and meaningless life, that way.