I like to be alone. Or, to be more candid, I need to be alone pretty often. Growing up in a house with three sisters, a veritable menagerie of animals, and two parents, you get used to fiercely guarding your own independence.
It's funny how sometimes a day alone can make you melancholy, or it can feel like a gift. When it's the latter, the hours stretch out ahead of you, deliciously empty, waiting to be filled with any passing whim. You can put your phone away. You can take a long walk, and stop when you want to stop. Run when you want to run. You can willfully ignore lines of a recipe at dinnertime, leaving out the garlic because you don't really want four entire cloves in your chicken, thankyouverymuch. You can fast-forward through the parts of the movie you don't like.
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