Another weekend gone. I'm counting in weekends, till the Guy is back. Because it's on weekends that I miss him most.
It's been easier than I'd feared. The weekdays haven't been so bad. In a way, I'm even enjoying it, the solitude that I had not had for so long. I have been contemplating instead of voicing my thoughts, something that used to be such a large part of my life, but being with the Guy seems almost the same as being alone. Almost, but not quite. Better, in most ways. Yet I needed the reminder of how it feels to be alone.
Sometimes I feel almost like a college kid whose parents are out of town. I read till early in the morning, have midnight feasts, play music loud. Not that I can't do any of this when the Guy is here, but in our tiny flat, you can't really play music and not disturb the other person, or leave the light on in the bedroom while you read... and you don't always have the taste for the same kind of music.
I even sat and watched Socha Na Tha again.
I find it amusing that people react with sympathy when I say I'm alone at home. The assumption seems to be that my mom or an in-law would come over. In all fairness, my mom was planning to come over, but she has a child - her nephew - to look after, and it was inconvenient to arrange alternatives, so we agreed she'd come later, when the Guy is here. We haven't seen each other in over a year, my mom and I. Yet I don't want her to come because she feels I need her, but to come when she wants to.
How can anyone imagine that the void the Guy left could be filled, even partly, by someone else? The only person who can conceivably come close to filling that void is - me. Anyone else in the house would probably make me miserable. I've always wanted my personal space, preferred - on the whole, though definitely not always - quiet and solitude to noise.
Another weekend gone, and I am not unhappy. Yet life seems slightly surreal, incomplete.
Tere bina zindagi se koi shikwa to nahi... Tere bina zindagi bhi lekin, zindagi to nahi...