Five Excruciating Moments Of Solitude

There is the life that we seem to live, and then there is the life that we actually live. One might think I am this accomplished woman on the go, happily surrounded by her (certainly slightly over the hill, but) charming future husband, or her fabulous friends (of whom, obviously, she has many), and that I am all perfectly well-adjusted to the delights and the misgivings of existence.

While some of it might be true, this doesn’t take into account any of my moments of solitude, nor the inner monologue that’s constantly rolling inside of me.

When you’re busy, the internal chatter is like a muted radio station that you can allow yourself to ignore. I will even venture the theory that the bloody chatter is the reason why so many of us hate being alone, why we’re on our phones, why podcasts are doing so well, or why Iron Maiden exists (for those of us whose chatter is especially loud.)

Only when you’re alone can you really get a true picture of the absolute bonkeriness of your own mind. Today…