feelings, James, solitude

My Solitude


Smoothly running sound of the engine, soft rock in the car stereo, and the darkness of the highway – my best therapy when I drive home.  After years of chaos, I finally found the peace I never had in the past; and I profusely enjoy it with each cell of my body.

I come back, light a candle on the patio table, and watch the flame through the glass of the candle lantern – the very precious moment of my solitude that I attained after decades of fear to be by myself.    

Being on my own sounds magical as bamboo chimes, feels fresh as crispy linen, tastes yummy as dark chocolate. Solitude is the path to an awe-inspiring adventure evocative of horse nickering, saltiness of raw oysters, and anime coloring with fluorescent pencils. 

I was trying to let James know about it, but he was not in agreement. He kept looking for the partner in crime, for the love of his life to realize his kinky bedroom fantasies.
He was the one who helped me heal through respect and care when I was entirely destroyed by Greg. I wanted a game of chess, and I got it. I wanted potted roses, and they were delivered to me promptly. I wanted a weekend in Jamaica, and James got the flight tickets the following day. Unlike Greg, James satisfied all my needs. I was thankful, I appreciated his friendship. He had the touch of an angel, it felt so nice, but I needed my privacy.

          Do you still love him, Vixen?
          I do
          What if you never be together again?
          I will be by myself
          Do you wanna come over and fuck? – James’ persistence in the urge for a quickie was amazing
          No

The night we had that conversation I was into viewing stars with my telescope and did not care much about James’ wants and needs. The solitude is enticing, and none of my dates can actually substitute it regardless of the value of their gifts and the size of their penises.

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