I go to the pub alone

I am living a strange single life in London at present, moving between the South London coffee shops and the office in Soho. It’s a routine that has shown me a joy I never expected. A musician with a steady routine doesn’t seem to fit ideas I once had of a hectic and unpredictable life, but following five years of unpredictable mental health, I don’t mind feeling a sense of routine.

I am lonely though. I say it with a strange nonchalance, quite often eating my dinner on my bedroom floor and wondering why I don’t really want it to change. I quite like feeling lonely at the moment, it keeps me awake to what I think I need. Constant stimulation of other people is tempting but exhausting. Feeling lonely means I have freedom to look beyond myself and with curiosity into the terrifying city of roads and sirens and desolation.

I go to the pub alone and order a lime soda and sit reading my book and it’s kind of wonderful. I am so alone that I will now do things like this and not care. I like to be near other humans and read around them, feeling I can be social without socialising.

Do I have friends to go to the pub with? Yes kinda. Not many of them live close and I don’t suppose many can react to my sense of loneliness with a spontaneous hour long trip to the south. It’s ok, my loneliness is mine and lime sodas help.

I can’t decide if this feeling is today or is it a new freedom in aloneness? The places I could go now that I am happy alone is kind of amazing. I want to look for a weekend away alone and take time to enjoy my own company in a time that has brought me so much.

I will never forget being 19 and desperately, painfully alone, never believing it possible to have this independence. Anxiety is the loneliest I’ve been. A new lonely of deep, curious evenings after work is different. I’m free.

I don’t fear my mind as much now.

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