No, I am not talking about some trip on cocaine or speed. (Fortunately I haven’t been into that shit anymore for a long time. Just don’t put it in front of me.) The title refers to voluntary being alone (with a little help of life). Cleaning my mind and when I am at it giving my body, or what’s left of it, a long deserved break as well.
Being alone is not the same as being lonely. Of course, there are those times when being alone crosses paths with being lonely. Being lonely is that kind of aching that you just can’t shake, no matter what you’re doing or whom you’re with.
Alone. Sometimes, once in a while, no weird women, no friends, no colleagues, no family, no silly pets, no nothing is exactly what I need to breathe, paint or write. Feel.
Body and Soul
Meanwhile I’m cleaning my body, something I should do more often. No cigarettes nor joints , no alcohol (which as a nice bonus keeps me out of trouble for a while), almost no food, lots of water. It turns out to be outrageously hard to bear for me.
But a little period of suffering is so rewarding once it will be finally over and you can pick up your former lifestyle again. (If you ‘d choose to do so – me, I definitely will.) I know my next cigarette or beer e.g. will taste a lot better (which has been a while). Too much of everything destroys pleasure.
Fighting the lack of feeling.
Also reducing social media to a minimum gives me more piece of mind. A really funny side effect is that I get a lot less messages. Life (and this is nothing new) has become the longer the more about networking and kissing each other’s ass – a bit too much for my liking and mental health.
Enough wandering. Now let’s do some painting. Being alone is an art.