On Being Alone

I enjoy my solitude. Being alone gives me time to look at the world on my own terms. I can look out of the window in my apartment and see hundreds of people walking around on the ground. The people of the world! Lovely specimens they are. So predictable, yet with open hearts. I enjoy watching them all.
Sometimes when I'm alone I might call my girlfriend, but only if it's Friday or Saturday. It's best for the two of us to be seperated for the remainder of the week. If I don't call her every Friday or every Saturday then no doubt I will receive a call from her, and she will lay into me. By the time our conversation ends, words like "bitch", "cocksucker", and "fuckstick" would most likely be used. Putting all of that aside, we have a great relationship.

Tonight is Sunday, so I won't be calling her. I didn't call her last weekend either, so Denny would end up ripping me a new one anyway.

Denny is her name.

If I'm alone, I'll sometimes remember when my parents were both alive. I have always lived the way I do. Somewhat of a minimalist. My parents, on the other hand, had money. They had land, they had toys. A huge house, pool. Vehicles of different kinds, and they would use different cars whenever they went out to a fancy restaurant.

I loved my bastard parents.

We were quite close. My dad and I would play sports in the yard. Sometimes my dad would show me how to do a curve ball, and sometimes my dad would show me a guarentee football play to use if my team was ever down six points. My mother relaxed most of the time, but made sure the house was always clean. It was a very typical rich family.
Once I turned nineteen I left the house. I graduated highschool, and decided to move into the city. I didn't need and I didn't want a big apartment. Just something that would make life easy. I also wanted to be close to the action. The sounds, screams, and celebrations of downtown made for daily entertainment. I didn't care much about television, because I was living in a world where something was happening all the time. I loved the place I found to live in so much that I am still here.
My parents died when I was twenty two. It was a car accident. My mom and dad took their 1950s Jaguar out for the evening. It was about 9:30pm, they were just leaving the Gladstone restaurant. Little did they know that ten minutes later they would be fatally struck by a drunk driver. The size of the car they were in didn't give my parents a chance. Thankfully the drunk driver was also killed instantly. This saved me from eventually serving a life sentence in jail.

I still haven't forgiven her.

So if I am alone, and there is nothing going on, I think about my parents. It doesn't make me sad much anymore knowing they are gone. I don't have any bad memories, so I usually smile when I think of them.