Why I live alone

People ask me why I live alone by choice. To this I usually have no answers. For how can you put to words that which you can only feel strongly?

We spend our entire lives without trying to grasp anything about it. In fact no one can ever claim to understand life. It is just to quest for that meaning that is so beautiful. It is a journey with no destination, which horrifies people. But this is exactly that beautiful trail into nothingness that I wish to follow. And living alone is helping me do that. It is helping me listen to my heart and really know how I feel. It is letting me love my life. It is letting me live.

For oh! What would I not give to be able to keep the pleasure which I am fortunate to have every night standing in front of my library, choosing my favorite book to bed?  How peaceful and comfortable it is to be tucked away in your bed, lazily going through the pages, unable to make out the meaning of the last few lines due to drowsiness but trying with difficulty to do just the opposite, yet finally giving in. That defeat is almost charming.

For oh! What would I not give to be able to keep the pleasure of being able to write anything, anytime without any disturbance? I write when I am excited, when I am sad or happy, or when I am lazy or when I am sleepy. This all goes so smoothly without any kind of human intervention.

For oh! How lovely it is to be able to paint alone. Without the painter in you expecting any masterpiece, you are free to just slosh the colors in any random pattern and that too with no one around to criticize it.

For oh! How beautiful it is to be able to listen to your favorite music while still in bed in the morning (you can play it loud or mellow, who cares?), to be able to meditate with peace, to be able to see the dawn and the dusk through your window, to be able to take long and lonely walks in the chilly nights through the dark streets, to skip breakfasts and not to give a damn in the world for things which are damned anyways.

I live in a home (it is neither a house, nor a tenement, nor a shack, nor an apartment, nor an accommodation and not at all a paying guest room). It is painted with cool and vibrant colors. A spot in it is reserved for meditation, a corner for academic work and serious thinking, another place for watching television and another just to sleep. Then, there are so many books lying around with my art supplies lying on them somewhere. I take pride in dirtying my home sometimes but at another times it keep it squeaky clean. I find all this simply awesome and I cannot trade this freedom with anything else.

On a more serious note, living alone opens a lot of doors instead of closing them. The only thing is that the paths through these days lead to you. A man ought to live alone at some point or the other in his life just to be able to know himself. When you live alone and you know that no one is going to pick you up when you fall, you start picking yourself up, which is very important in life. It is much better than receiving undue support every time from family and friends. It is only in the depths of human darkness that the real joys of self discovery lie.

Some people say that I am a loner, but to be truthful, I am quite the opposite. Living alone has helped me make stronger relationships. Since, I practice solitude and not loneliness. They are pretty different occupations in life.

But do I need to make these things understood to others? I do not understand it myself.