Being alone is sublime, but being alone is melancholy. When you are alone, you have the momentary feeling of being hidden in your own happiness. You give yourself a chance to focus on yourself and no one else. Although you still enjoy the benefits of luxury in life, you can spend time with yourself whenever you want. Single people lead happy and bright lives. They have great friends, perfect families, and excel at everything they do. They are alone because they enjoy the comfort of focusing on themselves, in their own skin; their well-being. When you are alone, you long for gratitude. You are so discouraged by your miserable life that the only thing you think about is something brilliant that miraculously appears in your life. You are sitting in a heap of your own discouragement; you have thoughts of misery that cloud your actions and your sense of thought. When you are alone, you wish you could be alone. You would like to be able to enjoy isolation. Every night at 10 p.m. I would lie down on my double mattress and listen to the sound of the cafe door closing as if the person who closed the place was angry. angry every night. At 10:01 a.m., this café was empty of people and emotion. He was alone, all alone, and even though he had company during the day, he could have fun all night long. I remember when I was alone. When I lived two miles south of Harlem, I had strange tendencies to do such things, to lie down and listen to the noises people made. It fascinated me that people were able to make noises that everyone could listen to. It helped reassure me that people were moving around in the world, while everything inside me felt calm and still. Every evening at 10:00 p.m....... middle of paper ......ngings; from “Bill,” my stuffed dog, to my three pairs of jean shorts. I went back outside and saw the woman standing in the exact same position as before I went to get my things. “I’m ready,” I said, “let’s go home.” » I wasn't sure I was ready. make the right decision, but at that moment I felt like I needed to escape my loneliness. I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. My mother let me in. She was ready to start a relationship with me. My aunt Lily refused to pay attention to me. I had friends and a future planned in New York. I had nothing in Whitney, Massachusetts. I made the right decision to return home. At 10 p.m. that evening, I lay down on my double mattress and listened to the sound of the cafe door closing. At 10:01 a.m., this café was empty of people and emotion. It was alone, just like me.