Solitude is an intriguing and horrifying concept. The winter cold offers me little enjoyment, but I never regret how I spend my time during this season. I mean regret over time “wasted” is a constant interloper of mine, but it’s quieter in these months. Things have been quieter. No shame over a “nice day spent inside”. The conditions forcing most in, silencing the guilt. After extensive self-development, I have found peace in solitude, but this isn’t complete solitude. I have my roommate, and I have my friends. It’s not this that intrigues me. It’s it in its purest form. That horrifies and intrigues. The true test of self.
What would become of man completely isolated?
What would become of me?
Alone
Adrift.