Alone

When I'm alone, my thoughts do acrobats and paint canvases of I don't know and what ifs. 

When I'm alone, my questions turn into answers and "huh" turns into "aha!" 

When I'm alone, my feelings wander out from their shadows. They don’t look like anything, but they feel like warm water trickling down my sand paper skin, and section by section, my shell starts tearing. 

And this isn't a bad thing because,

When I'm alone, I have no shame.  

So do why I hate being alone so much?

When I'm alone, I'm afraid.

Even the sweet relief of rock hard sand paper falling apart can be a curse, I have no one to help me pick up the pieces.

My mind paints canvases of each imperfection sectioned out in my body. It tells me no one will ever love me. My mind does cartwheels over embarrassing moments and childhood trauma. 

When I'm alone, I wonder why I'm alone. I wonder if I'll always be alone. 

And I'm ashamed. 

But I will always have my "aha" 

And I will always have my warm water to wash it away. 

Because I'm alone, but I'm not lonely. 

I’m there for myself