It's difficult to distinguish whether I genuinely enjoy being alone or if I've just been alone for so fucking long that I'm just used to it. Have I just tricked myself into thinking that's what I want? There are those rare times I find someone that can put up with my idiocity and I get completely enthralled with this idea of actual companionship that I can't believe I ever survived alone. But someone's always got to fuck it up. And who's that? Right. Me. And then I condemn myself to lengthy isolation and self hatred. And I settle into that rut and convince myself that it's what I want.
Then again, sometimes I meet people that are so fucking stupid that I practically flee to get away and being alone isn't all that bad.