Once upon a time a long, long time ago. Ok, maybe 3-4 years ago. I was a supremely anti social being. Oh I liked people but I didn’t need people.
If I took a few days off work, I was quite happy to spend that time cooped up in my room playing through a game from start to finish. A few hours to myself was bliss.
I spent half an academic year living by myself pretty much. One of my housemates had left at Christmas and I never saw the other one because she was always out and a bit odd really. I loved it though. I could do what I wanted without any trouble and the house was always nice and quiet.
I moved home and my parents knew what I was like and were fine to leave me in peace after work so all was good. I was anti social but everyone knew it.
But then came the shitty part of my life we all know about. And now I can’t do the alone thing any more.
I still crave it as if something in the back of my head knows that it’s me. But when it comes down to it and I actually have some time completely to myself with no need to do any work for example, I can’t. I’ll start fine but then I’ll get twitchy and inevitably put the game or book aside and go talk to someone.
In a way I think it makes me a better person. To be someone who needs and wants people in their life so much. But then I hate the neediness, hate the fact I can’t be anti social me any more. I was the sort of person who would have been fine on a desert island once before. I say can’t. I guess it’s more likely that I don’t want to.
So I find myself spending an evening alone (albeit feeling like crap for some reason) with a copy of Fable 3 yet here I am typing this because really I’ll be quite pleased when I’ve got some company in the house again.
Amazing how people change.