Vulnerability seeks a companion, and confidence can often appear in solitude. Maybe that’s why people tend to keep their distance from things that require more than the usual attention. If I had to choose, right now I’d choose to be alone. I am comfortable with silence, and the fact that my bed sheets don’t smell because they smell too much like my own skin. I like waking up alone, and not having to shift beneath the weight of someone else’s arm, because that proximity, the closeness that require’s, can be nauseating after you’ve spent months trying to rebuild what came falling down. I’m not bitter, I have a knack for forgiveness that comes all too easily for me. But I’ve seen the way people come together and how they peel apart and when somebody that close walks away they take some of your skin cells with them. They smell you on their bed sheets for weeks. And I know to let someone in means to accept that they might leave. So I don’t blame him, because I accepted our fate before it began. But I am unwilling to pass any acceptances on to the next one. My skin is intact, my vulnerability subsided when I realized I was on my own, I’m confident in my own solitude, I like it that way. For now.