Melancholy

I don’t know if there’s a way to explain this desperation for solitude. The feeling that I am doing something fundamentally wrong by seeking constant companionship. The feeling that I am betraying myself by wanting to share my time with another person.

The question comes down to if this feeling shall stay with every companionship that I may ever encounter, or if the craving for loneliness is born of mere mediocrity of the company that I have lived through yet. It is an important question because it determines the wait. It decides whether I am to abandon all hope whatsoever and never open myself to an experience again. Or if I must only wait and go through another and another and another unimaginative and tedious conversation in search for a spark. It is an important question.

Is befriending one’s own-self a mistake?

When no company measures up to the contentment that being by oneself brings, how does one desire intimacy then? What definition is intimacy even given in that scenario?

I am my most blissful in my pensiveness. How can the desire to escape melancholy come to me then?