Alone seems like such a loaded word. The synonyms being; by oneself, on one’s own, solo, lone, solitary, single, singly. And yet, out of those eight, alone is the one that feels just that: alone.
It sounds like the dead of the night, when all you can hear is your clock ticking by, each second passing you with each tick.
It looks like the one lone star, far from the brightness of the moon, with everything else covered by clouds & fog. The one lone star, twinkling down at you.
It feels like fresh, cold air seeping through your skin as you stand atop a mountain, surrounded only by hills, trees and the subtle push of the wind.
It tastes a little like tea right before it’s too cold to even think about drinking; but it’s still a comforting taste.
It smells like a waft of fresh flowers, slightly burnt toast and coffee made just how you like it.
It’s remembering that being alone doesn’t have to mean lonely, and each solitary experience cloaks you in a comfort of your own company like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a cold, Winter morning.