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What’s missing is still you.

“and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?” -Charles Bukowski


I’m trying hard to see the freedom in my new emptiness. In the beginning the openness in front of me engulfed me and made it hard to see anything. The emptiness in my day, in my schedule, in my arms paralyzed me into inaction. Lately, I find that I manage it better. I see the freedom in the little moments of realization. ‘Oh, I can take a longer lunch with colleagues, and just work later since I don't have to hurry home”.

Pause, pain. Swallow, forward.


The freedom I feel when I’m away from home, able to move at my own pace without guilt or anxiety. The loneliness I feel at home, when I see you everywhere until I blink it away. It’s in the silence, the lack of noise, the lack of your breathing, your quiet movements. It’s all of the missing joy.

Right now I have both freedom and loneliness. What’s missing is still you.


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