Do I crave for solitude because I sit with my people, or do I sit with my people because I crave for solitude?

It almost-no, it feels rather hypocritical. I want comfort, but I lash out when I get it. I am told that my people love me. I reject them anyway.

These days, I see my people mingle amongst themselves. It fills me with longing, envious, hungry, all-encompassing longing. I want to be there so much. I want to be included. I want to laugh with them, play with them, be loved by them. Be acknowledged by them. Anything. Just… I want them.

And in the same breath, I turn away from my people. I want them away from me. I want to stay alone from them. I want to stay in my own little world. I can’t sit with them. I have no reason to stay here. A grey cloud blotting white. A lone evening star in a grave of dying stars.

And so, I withdraw hungry from a full plate. I proclaim how I love the food, thank my people for bestowing upon me my favourites, fresh and tasty. And then, I leave.