Here I am, sitting in a booth, at a bar-like restaurant. Alone. With happy hour just finishing up, the crowd has thinned out some. Where it once was noisy, it’s now just moderately busy. The only person that’s noticed me up to this point has been the waiter assigned to my table. That’s about it. He’s the only person that remotely notices me (if I’m honest, he’s only tending to my empty glass or the cheque, but not really me).
It’s in this moment where I am familiarly uncomfortable. I am seen by everyone, but noticed by no one. This isn’t a pity party, because I’m building on something here: trust me.
Being alone in a restaurant has become commonplace for me. I have friends. I have a woman who loves me, but that’s not really the point. The point is that sometimes I prefer to be alone at a booth, in an eatery. With the same stroke of the pen (pun intended), I want to be that guy amongst friends, being the life of the party; but most times, I seem to end up alone.
Can I handle being alone? I can’t. As a person who loves people, I love meeting new faces. I light up when I meet them. It’s the possibility of hearing a new life story; one that I haven’t heard before. It intrigues me. It also gives me the opportunity to encourage more people. It sounds weird, but whatever: I dig it. It’s my thing.
Can I handle being alone all of the time? You better believe it. As a person who spends a great deal of time talking, encouraging and serving others, it can all be a bit exhausting. For this, lies a remedy: being alone. I try to carve out some time for me to decompress. Sometimes I do well. Sometimes I fail miserably. On those days when I’m really feeling spent, I just sit back and listen to music. Or I read. Or I write (no, this isn’t one of those times). I work on music, too.
Sitting here and looking around, I’m not so bothered about being unnoticed. Maybe I’m doing the thing that I’m supposed to be doing at this very moment: just being me.
I learn something new everyday.
Until Next Time,
Love & Peace.