I’ve reached a bottom I did not know existed. I drown myself into my work and stay late at the office so I don’t have to deal with coming to an empty home. The solitude I experience is new to me. I never lived alone until now. When I wake up in the morning, I drag myself to the subway station thinking that this day is going to be better than the next. Is it really? I don’t think so. I still cry myself to sleep every night. I pretended until now that everything was ok, that I would not feel that way, and that the transition from married life to single life would be easy. Well, I fooled myself. It’s not. Living by myself feels horrible. I hate the silence, the stillness of things in the apartment, and the smell of emptiness. When I open my apartment door, it’s dark inside. Nobody comes to welcome me. In the end, however, I don’t regret being alone. It’s the best decision I’ve made.
I really think I need a cat.
The Manicheans 