After a busy weekend with Eve, Jackie, Blake and Joe, it seemed that the only thing I should want to do was to spend time alone. Monday I turned down a walk along the river with a friend and instead spent the night nesting and hanging out with myself. Tuesday was much the same; I made dinner and read for most of the evening. I also did something I haven't done in ages; went to bed shortly after 10pm.
I'm still getting used to living alone, only because I have yet to finish settling my things where I want them. What I do miss is that when I come home from work, there isn't anyone to ask how my day was. It's the little things I guess. I'm not really lonely, or depressed at all. Just reminiscent over the past two years that I've been here, most of which has been in a relationship. I'm getting to know myself all over again, and working on making being happy from the inside, which is all that really matters.
Ironically, I am reading "Happiness" by Matthieu Ricard. I haven't gotten that far into it because it seems as though I am scrutinizing it too much. Already it is making a lot of sense and I think it will help. My favorite quote so far is "To love oneself is to love life." Considering that I'll be 31 a week from Friday, it seems as though I should have quite a bit of life left, so I should start to love it...and myself, faults and all.