It's 2:30am. I'm starving, as is the usual around this time of night. I feel uninterested in food these days, nothing appeals to me, and I eat only as necessity. The hunger doesn't bother me so much, I find a sort of comfort in the physical sensation of emptiness.

I feel myself rapidly approaching a breaking point, yet I don't see myself crumbling like I have in the past. In fact, I predict the very opposite. All this time I have been fighting my predisposition toward isolation, when what I should have done long ago, was embrace it. I perform all of these odd little gestures and daily activities as if I were playing a character. Examining, studying and then mimicking. I have spent so much of my life trying to understand what I need to be doing in order to fit in, or at least to avoid detection of my awkwardness, I have lost my self in the process.

Driving alone down the west coast, it never occurred to me how much I was emotionally displacing myself from all of that, how detached I was becoming of my rituals and habits involving social situations. During that time I did not realize how free I was in every sense of my existence. It was not until the fear of returning to that imprisonment, did I come to grasp all that had become open to me. And even more so, upon returning home and even feeling detached from objects, and what I previously associated with 'home'.

The revelation; after everything, is that I need nothing but myself. For I find no happiness in trying to understand the complexities of 'people', and it only serves to cause me grief. I have everything I need available to me, or at least the ability to obtain what I need. I see no cause for getting caught up in a whirlwind of drama concerning other people, when I could be utilizing the resources around me in order to accomplish what I want to do.

Simply put, I am no longer going to be a victim of loneliness and isolation. From now on, it is going to be on my terms.