Letter To Solitude

Dear Solitude,

Evidently, I need you more than I realized. 
Like fuel, You and I merge and I fill up and can face the world again.
You are my lifeline. My battery. My sacred space where I can listen closely to my soul, to my insides, to my bitterness, loneliness, silliness, cleverness.
My sacred space when inspiration hits, and tears flow. Where flow flows in all its wonder.
No one else is needed when you are around. In fact, no one even exists in my mind. I am in a blind spot when you are near, and YOU is all I need. 

When we are separate for too long, I lose my anchor, my ground, my center. I run with no fuel, with no system to record patiently and thoughtfully. In less poetic words: I'm a total impatient and irritable jerk when I don't get spend time with you for a while. 

Dear Solitude, 
Yes - I need you WAY more than I realized. 
I thought I was the life of the party. An extravert who thrived on people. A people person. HUH! Little did I know... I am as addicted to solitude as it comes. A melancholic silly introvert. Such is me. But none of this is news to you, Solitude. You know your worth and you know how needed you are. You knew it all along, so you kept being there - offering your presence whenever possible. Those long teen nights when I would spend my time yearning and longing to love, to be loved, to be something, to be somebody... you were always there. Waiting for me to pick up my notebook, listen to some jazz tunes, and go on dates with no one other than YOU. And we'd dance together, make love together, evolve together... just as a melancholic silly introvert must do. 

You are my forever first love, dear Solitude. 

Love, 

Your person.