24 May 2020
it’s 1am now. i’m snuggled on my couch with my cozy crochet blanket and linen pillow and iPad, reading an ebook. i’m suddenly astonished at the magical quality of nighttime when i’m the only one awake while the whole house sleeps. it feels calmer.. much more solitary and even spiritual than when the house was still filled with life and lights and my siblings’ voices during Ramadan. even though i’ve spent almost the entire day on my own (save for a couple of hours visiting family) it’s only now in the silent midnight that i truly feel my solitude.
it seems all one needs is a good book and a loving friendliness with oneself to taste the true joys of solitude. now that i ponder it, it’s becoming apparent to me that there are different types of solitude… tonight i discovered (or rediscovered) a type of solitude that makes me wish the night would last forever.
25 May 2020
i slept at 5am and woke up at 5pm. i’m miserable. my cousins and their kids are gathered at our house. i feel the urge to mute my ears. i love them and appreciate them and am happy that our house is where they like to gather, but i want to forget their presence because i’m sad to be someone that locks herself in her room instead of joining her family. it’s not their sounds i want to block, it’s the reminder of who i am that their voices trigger. i talked about solitude yesterday. this is yet another type. the sad, guilty, lonely type. part of you wants to be with people, to enjoy their company while it lasts, but a greater, much more dominant part keeps you locked in your own world, wearing unmatched pajamas and looking far from presentable and not caring about it because no one’s there to judge except yourself and you’ve accepted the way you look — maybe more like hopelessly resigned to it — so you live in peace in your impenetrable cocoon..