July 14, 2024 - “Small human things”

Loneliness lasts longer here, where it’s quieter, where the world is not constantly moving around me, but where I am moving through it. My body wants to be drawn towards another with magnetic pull, and I keep stretching my arm out in bed to feel the emptiness of the other side, and I am not mourning much, but am thinking it would be nice to have someone there, and it is hard when I dream there is. I have to lay there a while when I wake up and try to leave the knowledge of another body behind — but there are perks to being alone like this, to existing somewhere new. Last night the whole house smelled like garlic, and it was me cooking and here, I am the type of person who grocery shops, starts laundry while dinner is on the stove, does a sink full of dishes, then sits down with a glass of wine, and I don’t recognize myself when I do small human things like this but I am learning to, because I understand why they’re done. It feels nice to feed yourself and clean up afterwards.