I see being alone as having two sides: one that is forced, and one that is chosen.

Choosing to be alone is great for the mind, for the soul, for the self. It's a manifestation of being mindful enough to let yourself recharge from the exhaustion of the world.

On the other hand, being forced to be alone means nobody wants you in their company. Which is why you are alone to begin with. This is the kind that hurts. Because unless you fight your way into the light, you will be swallowed by the darkness until you're left alone and afraid and lonely. And I don't think anybody wants that.

I'm not sure why I can't just let go. I didn't like him. And I didn't love him in that way. But I can't figure out why, after so much time has passed since we last spoke to each other, I can't seem to be indifferent.

That's the opposite of love right? Indifference. Not hate. Just, nothing. Yet I know for a fact that this is not nothing. I think he's happy now. What we had was just friendship. I was there for him, he was there for me. We were there for each other. Until we weren't.

I never told anyone about this, because that might make me look bad. He's got his whole life figured out now, while I'm here just stuck in between places. He was always the one with the big plans. While I went with the flow. But what happens to me when the ebbing finally stops?

Maybe this was jealousy, at the idea that he's way past me on the contest of life. But maybe it's also just selfishness, because once upon a time I believed that he would always remain by my side. And somehow, part of me is sad that he doesn't need me anymore. Or maybe I'm just sad.