A Damn Good Saz

It's really easy to want what you don't have. 

And then, it's just as easy, to be around someone who has what you want, and realize that you actually don't want it. 

At least not what they have. 

At least not the way you could get it. 

And it's genuinely refreshing to witness exactly what you don't want, so you can feel content, going home alone. 

Apart from all the false things that might imprison you. 

In all the ways you think you should be. 

There's something pretty wonderful about being single in your thirties. 

I am, in fact, calling the shots in my story.

I'm deciding when I turn left and when I don't turn at all. 

There's an abundance of possibility. 

And maybe even that is a cliche. 

Maybe the reality is it's pure, unadulterated, blind uncertainty. 

But openness. 

To any and all and the inconvenience of all of it. 

I have no one and nothing I'm bound to. 

And that feels kind of intoxicating. 

My time is mine. 

Alone. 

Today, I spent the entirety of a day, sleeping and cooking and relaxing and doing nothing spectacularly spectacular. 

Other than I just was. 

In my own space. 

Doing as I pleased in each passing moment. 

Until I decided to get dolled up and meet a friend.

But all day, all of that was my choice. 

And it's so bloody simple, brilliant in fact, to ask so little of life. 

But to just be. 

Content. 

Present. 

Open.

And I don't want to be with a person just so I can be with some person. 

I want to choose to be in that isolated companionship if something about that particular person compells me so. 

But if they don't. 

If I feel distracted and disconnected and my eyes wander to the couple next to me. 

If I feel invisible and undesirable and more wanted by the kitty at home on my couch.

Then I choose alone. 

Genuine, and full of fire and passion, as I am, content. 

Rather than settle to be a duo. 

A duet. 

I wasn't actually built for chorus, but for the spotlight.

And it will take a very, glorious specific soul to share such rarity. 

And I'd rather sit alone at this bar, then beside someone who doesn't see me. 

Or feel all I feel. 

Or doesn't long to wink at the stars blaring above us.