i like to be alone. i like to potter. i like to like my own company.
i've been struggling recently to balance between solitude and depression. there is something slightly anxious about wondering if it's ok to choose to spend the night in, alone, quietly. the key, i've decided, is not to wonder, but simply to do what you feel. sometimes i start to wonder if there's a element of the crazy in me choosing not to be out and about (canadians: oot and aboot) with all my friends. and i do love my friends. there's plenty of evidence to support this claim.
it's important to me that i give myself time to be alone. it has not been an easy time. freakishly, the first 2 years (first working holiday visa sort of amount of time), life was almost peachy. there was adventure, there were new things, there were new and amazing people. and while there still are, since the start of my 3rd year in whistler (july 2011), things started to get more difficult. and also more wonderful- i have a gorgeous german person of my own to love and cuddle and cook dinners with, one that i didn't have (or maybe, didn't even want) before then.
but i can't shred this season. i just can't, and believe me folks, it's not the kind of thing you fake. some days it is the most utterly disappointing fact i have ever had to face. i don't really even want to mention my day count. it's definitely not 100. my secret hope is that my ankle is happy and healthy in time for a spot of spring shredding. it means i miss all the powder, but a spot of spring riding might improve my perspective on the whole snowboarding phenomenon.
so when everyone else is shredding and having the ultimate powder days of all time, i am sitting back with the determined attitude of one who is incredibly jealous but also powerless. i've embraced the solitude.
currently and desperately trying to keep my friends though. i am slightly concerned i will awake from solitude and find myself alone in this world.
alert, but not alarmed.