Time alone, I mean truly alone, even for me that is hard to come by. Thoughts of other people are enough to break the spell of solitude.
But I have had a taste of pure solitude, two days, and found myself, oh the horror of it all, found myself degenerating into... adolescence. Heaven forbid! Those days should be long over.
My mind went into overdrive, thinking of all the worst and greatest moments in my life. I don't enjoy this in the least. The past belongs where it is. And all the would-have-beens and could-have-beens that plague me are the stuff of fantasies that should never be read.
Silly thing, the human brain, it only half-cares what you think but is more interested on working on its own solutions. Perhaps these thoughts are always whirring at a subconcious level, looking for peace, for an answer to why certain events went as they did. Quiet brings them to the surface, where I can't shut them up.
Perhaps if I started watching television, I might get the peace back.