God, I really love being alone. Sitting on my couch with my laptop and a paperback, thinking up stuff and burping out loud. Its indulgent, rebellious even, especially when you have plans to meet people. I feels so good in my comfort right now. They’re going to wonder where I am and what happened. Or, they don’t notice at all and it’s as if I never RSVP’d on Facebook.

Right now, I have somewhere to be. I’m an hour and nine minutes “late” to a “party.” If I didn’t go, I’d have the whole evening to myself. I’d continue reading An Excess Male. I’d journal or prep for my writer’s meetup tomorrow [ I really need to do that]. I’d watch funny YouTube videos cuddled a blanket on the couch. I’d go to bed at 10 pm. I’d also be thinking about how I’m not there, who is there, if someone was looking forward to seeing me, if there is someone new I could have a moment with, if someone is disappointed I’m not there, that I won’t stop thinking about the fact that I bailed all fucking night. Ugh.

I will go. I will change into comfortable-cute clothes and be around people. But first I will post this.

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